Affection
by RavenAK
Summary: Because everybody needs affection. Wammy's children reflect on this matter. Collection of one or two-shots about the lives of L, Near, Mello and Matt. Will contain spoilers.
1. Loneliness Part 1

"**Affection."**

Because everybody needs affection. Wammy's children reflect on this matter.

* * *

**Disclaimer:**

I don't own Death Note, or any of its characters. They belong to the fantastic and amazing Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata. I'm not making any profit from this. I only wrote this for fun.

**Warnings:**

The following chapters will contain spoilers till the end of Death Note. If you haven't read/watched it all, some things might not be easy to understand.

**Initial Notes:**

Well my initial idea was to write a series of one-shots revolving around the stories and lives of L, Near, Mello, and Matt, but L's chapter turned out to be too long so I had to split it in two. I don't know if I'll have that situation with the rest of the characters. We'll have to wait and see. Also, this is my first DN fic ever, so reviews would be very helpful for upcoming chapters and stories.

Now, read on and hopefully enjoy :)

* * *

**Chapter 1: Loneliness.**

The sound of drops hitting the asphalt in that cloudy evening was starting to become an annoyance. It did nothing but splash water and make that irritating sound. The cars passing in front of his eyes were driving almost in slow motion, and so were the shadows of people that came across his vision. Eight year-old L Lawliet sat in the cold sidewalk, hugging his knees as he sheltered himself from the storm, sitting between dirty, old trash cans.

She hadn't returned…

But she had promised…

He watched every single person walking in front of him, with a glimpse of hope in his eyes, but no one turned to look back at him. Not that he cared… There was only one person that he wanted to be seen by, and she hadn't returned in, well, hours…

What in the world could have happened to her? Did she die? Did she get lost? Did she just lie to him, telling him to stay right there, that she'd be back soon, but she actually wouldn't? Logic was starting to beat hope… And he concluded that there was a 60% chance that she wouldn't return…

But why?

He decided to wait for another while. In that time, he would think of what to do if she actually didn't return. He would have to survive. He just had to. Right? Oh, this was one of those situations when trying was too hard, and it was better if he just gave up… But he couldn't afford that. He just couldn't. His mother had brought him to this world in absolute poverty, and yet she had always found a way to keep him healthy and well-fed. She always kept him warm with her body, and she kissed his forehead every night before he went to sleep. She had done everything humanly possible to keep him alive, so the least he could do was preserve his existence for at least a few more days.

He tried to change to a more comfortable position, but realized he felt fine just like that. He continued to stare at the events going in front of him: people walking, talking, smoking, waiting for the bus… The whole world was moving while he was just frozen there. And it hurt. It hurt to be the only one that wasn't truly living. It hurt being the only one that had no one to talk to, the only one that had no home to return to… And the only one waiting for someone that would never return.

L found himself sobbing like a little kid. Well, he was entitled to it, he _was _a little kid. His mother had either died or abandoned him. Either way, she would never return, and that made him feel lonelier than any person should ever be. He wiped the tears that started to come and mentally repeated to himself that he had to stay alive… for her. Because if she had died, it probably happened while she was looking for food, and if she had left him, he was pretty sure it was with the best intention. She had probably done so, so he had a chance to be picked by a social worker or someone that would take him to an orphanage where he would always have food and a bed.

His mother truly loved him. And he felt lucky to have met her.

Now he had to find a way to survive on his own, he needed to think of a way. While he was lost in his thoughts, wondering if there was anything he could do besides stealing food or eating from the garbage, he heard voices someplace near him.

He focused his attention on the two figures in front of him, as one of them approached him and bent right in front of him.

"Hi." The person said, a woman about 55 years old, maybe more, wearing clothes appropriate for the rain, with blonde hair and piercing green eyes, who didn't stop smiling for a while.

"Hi." L responded briefly in a soft, low voice. He was uncertain of what the woman's intentions were, approaching him so suddenly.

"What's your name, honey?" She asked him, still smiling. He thought for a moment and then made an L using his thumb and index finger, and showed it to her. L. That was his name, that's how his mother called him, while he, well, he simply called her 'mum'. Little did he know at that time how important a name was, how much relevance it would have in the rest of his life.

"L? That's your name?" He nodded. "I see. My name is Penny."

"Darling, we should head home now." The other person called. Now L could clearly see him. He was a man about the same age of the woman, with a rather notorious moustache that distracted attention from the rest of his features. His clothes matched the woman's, and he was holding an umbrella.

"Wait a second, L, I'll be right back." She got up and then walked a few steps to meet the man, presumably her husband.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm talking to the child. See? I told you there was a child between the trash cans."

"I already saw that, but I don't see what the point of talking to him is."

"What do you mean by that? That boy obviously has no relatives, and he's out in this cold night, barefoot, wearing those big clothes that I'm quite sure were not bought especially for him."

"I'm aware of that, but it's not like he's the only child in this situation. There are hundreds of children living in the streets all around London, and the world in general."

"And doesn't it break your heart?" She said in a sort of moan, like the words were causing her pain. She turned to look at L again and realized he was looking right at them, and had probably heard everything as well. And in fact, he did.

"Penny, don't start with that again… You just can't pretend that we start taking custody of every poor child of the world, it's simply humanly impossible."

"Yes, it is, but can't we just start with one?"

"Are you suggesting that we take this boy to our house?!"

"Just for this night. We'll bring him back tomorrow."

"Penelope, are you out of your mind? We have no idea where this child came from. What if he has a family that will come claim him later?"

"Just look at him, Quillsh. Does he look like he has a family that will claim him?" They both turned to look at L, and he felt overwhelmed and confused, so he just laid his head in this hands that were above his knees. What were these people talking about? Taking him to a house and then returning him a day later? Like he was some sort of dog? Well, he had to admit, he wasn't too different from a dog now…

The man sighed. "Well, if he doesn't have a family, then what will we do tomorrow? Who will we hand him to?"

"We will find a nice orphanage, or someone. We'll figure it out tomorrow." She had determination in her voice. She would not give in so easily. The man sighed again and then looked at L one more time.

She had convinced him.

Now what?

L felt as two pairs of footsteps approached him this time. He looked up to meet Penny's smiley face and Quillsh looking with a certain concern.

"L, how about you come to our house tonight? You'll have dinner and a bath, and if you want, you can spend the night at our guestroom." Penny invited him. He was surprised at how straight-forward she was, how she had told him the truth, not offering him anything out of the ordinary things one would offer to a guest. His mother had instructed him not to trust anyone, but in his situation, he had to decide between staying among the trash cans and dying, or going away with strangers and see what tomorrow would bring.

He decided that he had more chances of surviving with the latter, so he simply nodded and looked at Penny.

"Marvellous! I will prepare some delicious dinner as soon as we get there." She said offering him her hand for him to stand up. He hesitantly took it and got up on his legs. He had forgotten when was the last time he had been standing up, he was sitting there for ages…

Penny kept holding his hand as they started walking, not minding at all the way he hunched his back and how he looked around with his enormous, curious, pure black eyes. Quillsh, on the other hand, seemed very surprised to see this behaviour, and kept observing him closely, as he covered them, as well as himself, with the dark blue umbrella.

After walking a few blocks, they arrived at some big house, with a little garden on the front and fancy big doors. Quillsh opened the door and allowed his wife come in with the barefoot child. As soon as he stepped into the place, his curious big eyes scanned every detail around him. He was amazed. So this was how a real house looked like in the inside.

"Make yourself at home." Quillsh said. "I'll bring you some clean towels."

The boy's hair was still dripping wet from the rain, and he had started to bite his thumb as he kept observing every detail.

"You wait for the towels here and I'll start making dinner. You can accompany me after you're finished if you want." Penny said smiling at him again, and then left for the kitchen.

Quillsh was back with the towels soon and handed them to L, who started to put them around his body. The little hunchbacked form wrapped with blankets too big for him looked simply adorable, in an odd way.

"That's not how it's done." Quillsh couldn't help to laugh a little. He then proceeded to wipe L's hair and then took the wet towels with him. "Unfortunately we have no children's clothes to offer you, but we can quickly wash and dry the ones you're wearing while you take your bath."

Not waiting for L's response, he left to leave the wet towels somewhere. L looked in his direction and thought about those last words. 'We have no children's clothes.' They had no children. Probably never had children before. After he was done looking around, he walked into the kitchen to find Penny preparing something.

As soon as she heard him come in, she turned around and saw him sitting on the floor with his knees against his chest again, biting his thumb with an excited look in his eyes. He was looking forward to eat. The poor child.

"Are you hungry, sweetie?" It was a stupid question with an obvious answer. He nodded again. He wasn't very talkative, was he? She then opened the fridge and took out a big piece of apple pie. "Well, dinner will take a while, so I guess you can eat this while you wait."

She served him a big piece on a plate, along with a fork, and gave it to him. His mother would have never let him take it. It could be poisoned. He might die. But he didn't see any reason why they would want to kill him… Of course, humans had so many motives to do so many things… But well, he just really wanted the pie, and at the end of the day he was just a hungry child. If they wanted to kill him, well, he would give them that satisfaction, but at least he'd be satisfied too.

He took the plate and started devouring the pie quickly. Damn it was delicious. It tasted like comfort, like happiness, like heaven. It was cold but it felt so warm. It was juicy and endless. It couldn't compare to anything else. He finished it in less than a second, and then he licked his fingers. Penny just stared at him and laughed a little.

"You were really hungry. I hope you have saved room."

"I have." He said. "Is there more?"

Penny laughed out loud. "No, honey, I meant you should save room for dinner, hm? Children shouldn't eat sweets until they've finished their meal, but I made an exception here. Just a little exception, alright?"

"I see… Thank you."

Thank you.

How incredibly sweet those two words were. What a special child was that L.

"Although… Now that I think about it…" She opened the fridge again and took out some fruits jelly. She served a little in a cup with a spoon and gave it to L. He gladly took it and started eating it again. What a hungry child. The poor baby.

She continued preparing dinner as the kid enjoyed his sweet delight. Quillsh entered the kitchen a few moments later. He saw his wife busy with dinner and the child sitting on the floor devouring some sweet substance. It was such a perfect image that it hurt.

How they had dreamed of having a family for years, but it turned out impossible since Penny was sterile. She had always remained optimistic though and focused her love and attention on plants and small animals, but she would just go so excited when seeing a baby or a little child. Now it was too late for them. They would never have any children, so he tried to stay away from the pain and tried not to care about kids, but she was always first on watching news about children dying, or wanting to save them all. It was unfair that while they couldn't have any, people who had them just gave up on them.

She had wanted to adopt, but he refused. He had said that it was too difficult, that he would feel like a hypocrite if he looked at a child in the eyes and told him he was his father. She had explained to him that it wasn't like that, but he was stubborn. For him it was too painful to raise a child that didn't come from his beloved one, that didn't grow inside of her, that didn't have her genes. It was selfish, and old-fashioned, and very much like him.

And now he had let her win. He had let her take home a child that she found on the streets, and feed him and have him share with them for one night. But now he was scared. He was scared that they wouldn't be able to return him the next day, that they didn't have the heart to, and that they'd have to raise a child at this age.

He shouldn't have let her win.

Or maybe he should, but twenty years ago.

"Boy…" He called to the figure on the floor.

"His name is L." Penny corrected him, not taking her eyes away from her food preparation process.

"L? L what?" He asked confused. L just continued to lick his fingers after finishing the jelly.

"Just L." Penny stated. Quillsh concluded that it was a little game that children had these days, or something along those lines. The thing was, the boy refused to reveal his name for some reason. But as far as L knew, that was who he was. He was L. And that was all he needed to know.

"Alright. L… I've already prepared the bath for you. You should take it while my wife finishes making dinner."

When L finished his dessert, he stood up, gave Penny the cup, and then walked to Quillsh, looking up at him from his hunchbacked position.

"Follow me." Quillsh said, guiding the boy to the bathroom. What a creepy, yet lovely child. That L was one special creature. He left L in front of the bathroom, gave him a towel and instructed him how to drain the water out of the bathtub when he was finished. Then he left and L closed the door.

A bath… how nice. The water was warm and clean and relaxing. He washed away the dirt from his body and his hair, and cleared his head. These two strangers had just decided to take custody of him for one night. With what purpose? What did they expect of him?

He felt a little unsure now, not knowing how to act in this situation. He knew he was nothing special, it was not like they had selected him for a given reason. He just happened to be around by the same time they were… But still, to receive all these benefits for nothing seemed a little suspicious.

Hmm… L stared at the walls around him while wondering what would happen now, and particularly, what would happen the next day. He couldn't tell, all that he could do was to wait. And it bothered him. People's actions weren't as predictable as they seemed.

When he had finished his bath, he drained the bathtub and put the towel around his body. He took his still dirty and wet clothes and dressed himself again. He remembered the day he had received them. Some priest had given them to his mother as a charity. He was 5 years old at the time and he looked even smaller in them. He wondered if he would ever fit in them, and if one day they would be too small for him. That would be ironic.

He looked at himself in the mirror next to the sink and stared at his own image. He didn't get the chance to look at himself too often, for he had no home and no mirrors. The only way he could do so was when he passed next to those big department stores' windows, but it was still a blurry image. Now he had a full-body view of himself. So this was how everyone else looked at him…

Penny was finally serving the dinner when little L walked to the dining room. He was wearing the same clothes and was still barefoot, but his hair was dripping water. He silently came in and stared at her, biting his thumb.

"Ah! Here you are! I was about to go get you here for dinner. How was the bath?" She excitedly asked the wet boy.

"It was nice." He answered. "Very relaxing."

"Oh, I'm glad!" She giggled. "Quillsh, dinner is served!"

Quillsh came into the room with his usual expressionless face. When he noticed the boy dripping water on the floor, he couldn't help but smile. He sat in his usual spot, right next to his wife, and motioned L to take a seat too. L wondered if more people lived there, for they had a table with about 6 places and only used two.

"Come here, sweetheart." Penny talked to the boy as she lifted him in her arms and placed him in the other spot where she had put the plate for him. "Have a nice dinner, my dear guest."

L had never experienced the ritual of having dinner. Usually he and his mother would just sit on the sidewalk and eat whatever piece of food they had been given, or had found. He had never had the chance to actually get prepared and dressed for dinner, he had never sat across his food and enjoy it with his eyes first. But he knew that it was what people did. His mother had told him about it. She had also promised him that one day they would come out of their misery and enjoy big dinners together…

She never returned. And now he would have dinner without her. No matter how big that dinner was, he couldn't share it with her…

"Is something wrong, L?" Quillsh asked him, interrupting his thoughts. L shook his head and just stared at his plate, sitting with his knees close to his chest, even on a chair.

"Maybe he doesn't like chicken?" Penny wondered out loud.

"He's a homeless child, how can he possibly reject any food?"

"Darling! That was so rude from you!"

"Nothing's wrong." L finally spoke in a low and monotone voice. He then proceeded to hold the fork with his thumb and index finger and stuck it in the piece of food. He did the same with the knife and then stared at the 'creation' in front of him. The couple exchanged looks as they observed the child's behaviour.

"Um… maybe I should help you cut it." Penny stood up from her place and proceeded to cut the chicken in many pieces in L's plate. "Like this."

When she finished her job, she went back to her seat. "Thank you." L said as he then took one piece with his hand and quickly put it in his mouth. The couple exchanged looks again. What a strange child L was. But he was cute nevertheless.

After everyone finished dinner, Penny picked up the plates and took them to the kitchen, to wash the dishes. Quillsh got up to go to the study room, but noticing that the boy was still sitting there at the table, with his knees to his chest and biting his thumb as he stared into nothingness, the man decided to invite him to go with him.

L thought about it for a few seconds. He had had a bath and dinner. Now he was invited to spend more time with these people. What exactly did they want from him? His mother always said that no one gives away free happiness. Every time somebody gave you something that you couldn't have, it was because they wanted you to give them something they couldn't have; and if you failed, they would feel betrayed. L never understood what it meant, but it made him nervous. He was nothing but an 8 year-old boy with a white sweater and a pair of blue jeans too big for him. How could he possibly reattribute what they had given him?

For now, he decided, it was better to do what they wanted him to. He jumped out of his chair and followed the grown man, and they both went to Quillsh's favourite room: one that had lamps in every corner, tons of books, tables, and all sorts of mechanical inventions. It was the room where he worked, where he had fun, where he spent most of his time. L was amazed at just how shiny and incredible everything was. He had never seen anything like that at all.

Quillsh couldn't help but smirk at L. He didn't know whether to laugh or to be a little frightened, so he settled with smirking. The little boy, still hunchbacked and barefoot, was staring at everything with his eyes open even wider than usual and his thumb in his mouth, which was half open. He looked like something indescribable. A little freak, that was the closest description he could make.

"So, L… Do you know how to read?" He asked bluntly. He didn't know where this child had come from, so anything was possible. He thought that by a simple question like this he might be able to make a conversation that would lead to finding out more about this strange, captivating child.

"I do." The boy answered, not taking his eyes away from all the amazing things that surrounded him.

"That's good. Reading is very important, and also entertaining." But L wasn't interested in the reading talk, he was staring at something far more intriguing for him, some sort of small table with little pieces of something on it, and two chairs.

"Ah, do you like my chess table?" He asked him as he got close to his favourite game. "You can come and take a good look at it if you want."

L walked to the table and stared at every single piece of the chess game, a glimpse of joy and curiosity glowing in his eyes.

"Do you know how to play this?" Quillsh asked. L shook his head in denial. "I could teach you. Pick a chair."

L gave him a deep look and then sat on one of the chairs. Quillsh sat on the other and then picked up one of the pieces to start the 'class'...

* * *

"So here you are!" Penny exclaimed when noticing both the grown man and the curious child's presence in the study room. "I was wondering where had you gone."

"You are not going to believe this. L is beating me at chess." Quillsh said to his wife.

"Ah, sure he is." She answered as she entered the room and came closer to them to watch the game. Then she noticed how L played his turn.

"Check mate." The little boy said. Both adults looked at the game and realized the undeniable truth.

"You are an incredibly fast learner." Quillsh commented. "I cannot believe you had never played before."

"I hadn't." The boy said.

"... But it's unbelievable! I just taught you today and you beat me already!"

"I bet that's because you taught him so well..." His wife replied putting a hand on his shoulder.

"You don't understand, Penny, he just learned today." He turned around to look at her, surprise visible in his eyes.

"...But you gave him an advantage, ok?" She said in a low voice, so L wouldn't hear.

"What advantage?"

"You put yourself at his level, you let him win..."

"No, I didn't." He shook his head.

"Are you telling me that he honestly beat you?" She asked and he nodded. "That's impossible, I know you, you would never play like a master if you're against a child."

"I'm telling you. His mind is quick."

"I would like to see that."

"L, how about we play another round? Would you like that?" Quillsh said to the boy out loud. "You take a seat and enjoy it, Penny."

* * *

"I told you, that child is not ordinary." Quillsh told his wife as he searched the upper drawer of their bedroom for pillows that the child would use that night.

"I can't believe it. Even if he had learned somewhere else... No, he's a child from the streets, how could he have learned somewhere else?" She answered while selecting the sheets that she would use to dress the guest room's bed.

"Well, we don't know much about where he came from..."

"That is true, but even then... His moves were too quick for someone his age..."

"I wonder how many more mysteries he hides..."

The couple then heard the bathroom door open and the sound of small feet in front of their bedroom. Penny hurried to open the door and found the little one still sucking his thumb and scratching his right leg with his left foot. She then kneeled at his height and smiled at him.

"Are you done brushing your teeth, sweetheart?" She asked him and he nodded. "Okay, time to go to your room."

_Your room. _He had a room of his own. He had had a bath, dinner, a match of some interesting game called chess, a new toothbrush, and now a room. All in one night. His mother would be so happy... but what could they possibly want in return?

_The simple presence of a child. _This kid had just arrived that same evening and he had already lit the lives of the couple. His sole presence, his big eyes, his strange behaviour and his silence. Only that was necessary for Quillsh to feel truly happy and content. And somehow he hated this feeling. He had felt the warmth of a family, but it wasn't really one. It was just him and his wife, and this child would only be here for this night, and part of the next day... right?

Wrong. He couldn't bring himself to let L go just yet. Penny was so happy, and hell, he was happy. They had brought in a little child to take care of, something they should have done many, many years ago. And that's why he hated this feeling. He had always rejected Penny's wish to adopt, and now that they didn't have as much energy as before, this child... this small and strange and interesting creature had just taken over their lives. They just couldn't return him to the cold streets without knowing what those big black eyes were hiding, without knowing where he came from, how was his life before, what was going through his mind, his quick mind...

L was a part of them now. He had stolen their hearts without even giving them his whole name. And he still hated this feeling. He hated the fact that he enjoyed it so much.

* * *

"So, L, would you like me to tell you a story before you sleep?" Penny asked the little boy, who was now comfortably under the blankets of his guest bed.

"What kind of story?" He asked her.

"Well, that depends on what kind of stories you like... Have you ever heard of Alice in Wonderland?"

"Yes, I have."

"Really? Where did you hear it?"

"My mother told me about it. About a year ago..."

"Your mother... Where is she now?" Penny went straight to the point.

"... I don't know..." L said lowering his head.

"How long have you been by yourself?" She kept pushing the matter. L started to get worried... what exactly was she expecting him to say? What use could he be for her? But well... they had given him all sorts of attention... so he should give something back... even if he wasn't sure why.

"I... I'm not sure..." He honestly didn't know how to answer. He didn't want to fail these people, but there was nothing he could give them, not even the information they requested.

"...Are you worried about her?" She asked him, noticing the awkwardness the boy was experiencing.

"No, I'm not." He answered almost inmediately. Now this was strange.

"So don't you miss her at all?"

"I do."

Penny was getting tired of his short answers. She just wanted to get to know him more, but he was too reserved. He wasn't like all the other children. He wasn't outgoing, he wasn't comical, and he didn't think he was too smart, even when he was. He just seemed too mature for his age, and too quiet for a child from the streets. Who was L, exactly?

"Your mother seems to be an interesting person." She continued, sitting more comfortably in the chair next to L's bed. "Tell me about her."

"My mother..." He started, carefully meditating the words. What topics did these people exactly want to know? Why him? Why his mother? Why not any other child and any other parent? What exactly did they expect him to tell them? He turned to look at the other side of the room, where Quillsh was standing, tall and elegant as usual, also waiting for his answer. He felt uneasy and invaded, a feeling he didn't enjoy, and he had never felt before.

"My mother... She's the only person that I have ever known... She gave me my name, she taught me words, numbers, and sentences. She told me what to eat and what not to eat, she told me not to talk to strangers... but everyone else is a stranger... she made sure that all my needs were fulfilled... she was always with me, watching over me... She always answered all my questions... She taught me everything about people... so I could leave her one day and join them."

When he finished his explanation he turned to look at the woman next to him, whose eyes were now filled with heartfelt tears. L had lost his mother, somehow. She either died or abandoned him. Now he was all alone, and he was just 8. If he remained in the streets he would eventually become a thug, sooner or later. And he didn't deserve that. He was too intelligent and special for that.

"...Is she dead?" Quillsh asked him. It was the only reasonable explanation.

"I don't know..." L said bringing his knees to his chest. "There's a chance she might be."

"How about your father?" The man asked. He knew it was probably a stupid question, if he had a father he would be with him, but then again, he just wanted to get to know L better. Much to his surprise, L just stared at him with a strange expression, and tilted his head to a side, as if he had just been asked the solution to an incomprehensible formula.

"I don't have one." He answered inmediately.

"Did your mother ever mention him?" He kept asking, a little intimidated by the child's strange stare.

"No. I don't have one." He repeated. It just didn't make sense in his head. He never knew it was impossible for a woman to have a baby by herself. But he didn't seem to ponder about it much, either.

"Who did you live with then? Just you and your mother?" Penny asked.

"My mother was always with me.."

"He has no other relative..." Penny said now talking to her husband, with a knot in her throat. He closed his eyes and imagined for a moment what it must have felt like for the poor little L, who didn't even know his name. He must have felt so cold and lonely. So, so lonely. Having to rely on strangers for a little show of affection, something that every child should have, something that no child should ever have to request, something that just should be given to them, because they're children. They need love. Everyone does.

Quillsh Wammy thanked God for giving him and his wife the opportunity to find this precious little child, that it was them who found him and not someone else, not some gang who needed a new pet, not a crazy pedophile, not one of those disturbed sociopaths who thought that ending with the life of those in need would lead to a better society. Thank God he was found by an old inventor and his house devoted wife. A couple whose only intention was to make people's lives easier with Wammy's inventions, and of course, make earnings for themselves to keep on having a good life.

They had found him and now he was a part of them. Quillsh opened his eyes again and smiled. "He has us now."

* * *

The next day the couple decided they simply weren't ready to give little L away. L was a good child who woke up early and quietly sat in a corner waiting for them to wake up. He took his shower when he was asked to, he put on his same old clothes, he had his cereal for breakfast, holding the spoon in a very particular manner, and he took his time to finish it.

Then he sat in the kitchen floor while Penny washed the dishes, he just silently sat there moving his toes up and down, looking down at them thoughtful. The woman looked at him, wondering what he was thinking. What kind of thoughts could be going through his young yet precocious mind? She wished to know what was going through the head of a child from the streets, what sorts of things worried him, or entertained him. She wanted to get to know him better. And she knew how to start a conversation with a kid.

"Hey, L..." She called out to him, making him raise his head to look at her. "Would you like some cookies?"

"Yes, please." He answered quickly. He loved cookies. He wished that everytime someone offered him food it would be cookies or leftover cake. But sometimes he wasn't that lucky, and he got things like salad or fish instead. He had to eat them though, or he would have starved... but the point was, he never said no to cookies.

He watched Penny get a box of cookies, open it and serve it into a bowl. Then she walked to him and went on her knees to get closer to his own height. He watched her smile as she took one from the bowl and handed it to him. He took it with his thumb and index finger and took a small bite. Delicious. She took one for herself and gave him the whole bowl so he could eat as much as he wanted.

"Would you mind if I sit here with you?" She asked and he shook his head. He didn't mind her company. She had given him cookies. One of the things he liked the most.

She sat right next to him, watching him devour the delicious cookies with an elegant desperation. Yes, that was the only way she could call it. He was eating them one behind the other, but he wasn't making a mess, he ate them with grace and order. She couldn't help but make the observation. "You sure enjoy your cookies..."

"I do." He answered before taking another one.

"Do you like any flavour in particular?"

"No..." He said after he finished swallowing it. "Any flavour, as long as it's sweet, is welcome."

"Ah, but all cookies have sweet flavours... they don't come in soup flavour, or chicken flavour..."

"Hmm... maybe they should come up with them..." he said thoughtfully.

"Would you like it better that way?"

"No, but you would... You must like chicken a lot." He turned to stare at her. She laughed.

"Ah, I do like chicken, but I wouldn't like it in a cookie. They are supposed to be sweet..."

"I thought you liked it a lot, since you put so much effort in making it last night..." he took another one, his dark deep eyes still staring at her. "And you ate it with the same pleasure I'm eating this chocolate chip cookies."

"Oh, chicken is delicious, but I just wouldn't put it in a cookie. It wouldn't mix well."

"How can you be sure? If you like chicken, and you like cookies, then you should like them both together..."

"Not necessarily..." This conversation was starting to become absurd. Maybe the kid wasn't a genius after all. "I like chicken for food, and cookies for dessert... or for the tea time, or for moments like this, when we are just spending time chit-chatting..."

"So you don't see cookies as food?"

"No, I don't. They are dessert. They are for pleasure. They're... fun."

"...Fun?"

"Yes. Fun."

"I see... Does that mean that chicken is boring?"

"..."

She didn't know when this conversation had become like this, but she wasn't enjoying it. It all started with a random comment and now it was a fight between dinner and dessert. How could it have happened? How could L think that it was a serious discussion? She just expected him to answer 'yes my favorite is chocolate' or something simple like that, but he had to take every word literally. Why would he do that? What was wrong with him?

"Look, L... chicken will always be chicken, and cookies will always be cookies. You can't make a cookie soup, and you can't eat chicken with cream... they are not the same and are not meant to be the same."

"...But you still like them both..."

"Yes, but never together."

"I see..." He took another one and observed it for a moment. "I understand now why I don't like chicken. I tried candy first. And when I tried chicken it was different. Completely different. So I decided that I didn't like it, and that I wanted to have something sweet, like candy. So, everytime my mother could get me something sweet she did... but sometimes it was absolutely necessary for me to have chicken, or salad, or anything that was the opposite of sweet. My mind rejected it. So I don't like chicken... I don't like things that are different from what I know I like... So I'm very intrigued to know what a chicken cookie must taste like. Sweet and not sweet together... And yet you, who told me you liked both sweet and not sweet things... are not interested in trying this. You don't want differences to meet, you want them to stay at their place... And I want to see what would happen if they met..."

Now she was dizzy. She tried to follow, but it wasn't easy. Was it an indirect way to call her a racist or something like that? What about differences meeting? What was that with sweet and not sweet coming together? Why was it so relevant in his mind?

"L... If you don't like chicken you don't have to eat it. You should have told me you didn't want it last night."

"I couldn't have told you something like that, Mrs. Penny. You offered me an opportunity to satisfy my hunger so I took it."

She sighed. All this waste of time just to conclude that he was a regular 8 year-old child who didn't want to eat his vegetables and prefered to have apple pie and cookies instead. There was nothing deep in his message. She felt dumb for expecting something else.

Then she realized that L had already finished all the cookies while having that pointless conversation. What a strange child. Instead of thinking of toy cars or poprocks, he spent his time sitting on the floor pondering on the bittersweet flavour of a chicken cookie.

"Why hello there, mister L." Quillsh greeted as he entered the kitchen and looked at the child amused. L was so strange, he was simply fun to look at. That innocence in his eyes made him gracious, but at the same time it couldn't be mistaken for naiveté or stupidity. It was simply innocence. "I was wondering if you would like to play another chess match."

"Alright." L answered looking right into his eyes with that same fish-like stare. Then he got up and followed the man out of the kitchen. Penny smiled and followed them as well.

Again, L was fascinated will all of Wammy's inventions in progress. He stared at them with such a passion, just looking at them, longing for them, but never touching them. He wasn't just going to start breaking stuff, like a regular child. L was special. The Wammys were sure of that.

"Do you like my inventions, L?" The man asked smiling to him. L's weirdness simply made him smile.

"I do." He anwered still staring at them. "They seem so very interesting."

"They are." Penny agreed. "Quillsh is a great inventor, he can make anything."

"Anything?" The little boy asked turning to face her. "Even chicken cookies?"

She giggled and Quillsh turned to look at her with a confused expression. "Yes, even chicken cookies." She said.

* * *

That day L beat Quillsh at chess again. And the next day. And the day after that... When they realized it, L had been with them for a whole week. He was already used to the schedules of the house, the rutines and the traditions, the rules and the permissions. They were even considering to buy him shoes. As for him, he was glad he was still alive, he was glad he had food, dessert and a bed to sleep in. He could die the next day, it wouldn't matter, because his final days had been happy.

It was unusual for a child to think about death this way, but then again, he was not normal. Quillsh had decided to test L's intelligence in many different ways. He didn't just beat him at chess, he also did at solving huge puzzles, reading large books, and even learning songs quickly. He excelled at everything. He was just the kind of child an inventor needed. And the three of them knew this.

When Penny had brought the idea of keeping L, it was accepted quickly by her husband. He said they wouldn't raise him as their own child, because he wasn't willing to steal the place that belonged to his real parents, but they would do everything they could to keep him healthy and happy. They were both thrilled, although something inside of them told them it wouldn't be forever...

* * *

**Closing Notes:**

And that's the end of part one. If you liked it, then let me know, and I'll publish part two. I made up Penny's character because I felt that Wammy needed a little back story of his own, and I needed someone that would be the connection between the both of them. I hope you like her :) and as for L's mother, I wanted her to exist, even if she doesn't appear in the story, I wanted L to have memories of her because he couldn't have possibly grown up entirely by himself, and he needed some kind of guide in life that he could base his conception of the world upon, for the first 8 years of his life. I have some little back story for her too, but it's not included in the fic, although if you're curious, you can ask me about it n.n

Well that's all for now, please review so I know how I'm doing. See ya in the next part!


	2. Loneliness Part 2

"**Affection."**

Because everybody needs affection. Wammy's children reflect on this matter.

**Disclaimer:**

I don't own Death Note, or any of its characters. They belong to the fantastic and amazing Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata. I'm not making any profit from this. I only wrote this for fun.

**Warnings:**

The following chapters will contain spoilers till the end of Death Note. If you haven't read/watched it all, some things might not be easy to understand.

**Author Notes:**

So here is the second part of the L chapter. I hope you enjoy it, and please tell me your opinion through a review. Thanks to my readers! :D

**

* * *

**

It had been a month since little L had come into the Wammys lives. Quillsh had already proved that the kid was an exceptional genius. A genius who didn't like to sleep or eat normal food. He liked to stay awake all night devouring science books and then looking for ways to apply the knowledge the next day. He also liked to eat cookies, cake, ice cream, lollipops and all sorts of desserts while studying.

He was not normal, therefore Quillsh didn't plan to send him to a normal school. He figured the boy obviously wouldn't adjust well, and he would be bored as hell. Besides, the teachers wouldn't understand him. So the couple decided to educate him in their home. They didn't expect him to be a college graduate, so a school certificate or diploma didn't matter much to them. They just wanted him to be a healthy and well educated child. That was all.

So there L was, studying in Quillsh's studio while he was experimenting with several materials to create God knows what, like any other day. Only that this day was anything but ordinary.

"L, what time is it?" The man asked. He had taught L how to read the clock and he had learned it in the first attempt. Quillsh had figured that if L was unable to learn something, it was because he hadn't been taught well.

"4:45 pm." The kid answered, after glancing at the clock for a moment.

"So strange... Penny should have come back from church at 4... Maybe she went to buy groceries..." And saying that, he continued with his work, while L continued reading the Bible, with his knees to his chest in the edge of the chair.

It was odd that Quillsh being a scientist and whatnot, had married such a religious woman. He personally believed in God, but he also believed in many other things and he didn't think it was necessary to praise them. She didn't share that opinion, thus the catholic images that adorned most places of the house, excepting his studio; and the amount of religion books that were easy to find in any drawer. So L had been studying the Bible, she was happy that he had discovered religion, and he was glad that the boy would now adquire a certain criteria on serious matters. She had wanted to bring the child to church with her, but she didn't want to push him, so she let him learn a little bit more about all these instances and promised to take him with her next week...

One more hour passed and she hadn't returned yet. Quillsh was starting to worry, so he called Roxanne, one of Penny's friends, to ask her if she happened to be at her house. She claimed she hadn't seen her in the whole day. Strange. He thought they were going to church together, but apparently she had gone with another friend, named Susan. Roxanne gave him Susan's number and he called to her house. Her teenage son picked up claiming that she hadn't returned either. So... what was this supposed to mean? The preaching had extended? This was too weird.

He hang up the phone and returned to his work. Well, he didn't know this Susan person, so maybe she was one of those women that liked to go window shopping even if they didn't really need to buy anything. Penny wasn't that type of woman, but she was a sweet and easy going person, so she could have just gone on with it to please her friend.

About fifteen minutes later, the phone rang. He went to pick it up...

"What a disgusting joke!" L overheard him yell at the person on the other side. "You should not waste your time making these sorts of imprudent calls... No, no, there has to be some mistake..." At this point L put down the book and turned around to look at the man. "This... has to be... I... I will be there as soon as possible." He hung up and stood there for a moment with his head down.

L wasn't feeling well. He didn't know what this was, but he knew that he didn't enjoy this kind of silence. Quillsh was still there in front of the phone doing nothing, and this made L uneasy. What had happened to him? Why didn't he come back to work?

"L..." The man finally spoke. "Try to comb your hair, we're going out."

What was this? What kind of chain reaction had originated this? And what was wrong with Mr. Wammy? He wasn't usually like this. Yes, he was serious and more rational than emotional, but this was just... cold. His voice sounded cold, and he seemed to be just frozen there. No matter how much of a genius L was supposed to be, he couldn't understand human's complex behaviour just now... maybe he never would.

Obeying his caretaker, he got up from his chair and went to the bathroom to comb his hair, while trying to organize his thoughts. They were going out. He hadn't been out since he arrived to their house. Did that mean that they were returning him to the streets? That this was all? And why did he need to comb his hair? How was that relevant? He wasn't understanding anything and it stressed him. He wished he could simply get the information, but he didn't want to be upfront because, well... he was scared.

He was scared that the man wouldn't respond his question, and instead would yell at him like he did with the person at the other end of the line. He didn't want to be treated like that, it made him nervous, it gave him a weird feeling that he didn't like at all. He finished combing his hair, with the help of some water, and exited the bathroom to go to the living room where the phone was located, finding Quillsh with his hat and jacket on, sitting on the couch with his hands on his face.

The image disturbed the boy. Everything was out of place. This wasn't ordinary or rutinary, what exactly was going to happen to him now? Was he about to meet his fate? Why the silence, why the eyes away from him?

"L..." The man finally spoke. "... Penny is dead."

* * *

"We are deeply sorry that you had to find out this way..." A policeman told Mr. Wammy. "But we thought there was no other choice."

"Oh, God..." The grown man answered as he covered his face with one hand, avoiding to look at the corpse lying on the floor. She had died instantly, the police had said, from a shot straight to the heart. He had also been told that the killer had been just a few inches away from her, since there was so much gunpowder in her clothes. "My Penny, my sweet doll... What kind of sick bastard could have done this to you?!"

He then backed away and started to walk in circles. It was as if he wanted to see her but at the same time he didn't. Either way the scene was horrible. It was a scene that no one would expect to see at a museum. Counting Penny, there were three murders in the same place. The others were her friend Susan, who had received several gun impacts on her limbs, and an unknown man, who had been shot in the neck and died instantly as well.

It made no sense at all. Nothing made sense. Why was she in a museum? Why was she dead? Who the hell had murdered her? For what reason? All these questions assaulted the police, Mr. Wammy, and L too. For a child like him, this sort of thing simply made no sense at all. He understood that people died, and he understood that people were murdered, after all, he had been raised on the streets, but that someone had decided to murder 3 people in such an uncommon place simply couldn't get through his head.

He observed her biting his thumb. There lied Penny, the woman who had taken such good care of him, who had done nothing but to treat him well and make him feel comfortable... now she was a corpse. He felt a knot in his stomach very similar to the void he felt when his mother disappeared. Maybe he should start getting used to the fact that nobody was eternal and everyone was meant to leave sooner or later.

"Hey, kid." A policeman stood in front of him, blocking his sight. "You shouldn't be in a place like this. This is a crime scene." And then he proceded to lead him somewhere else, when Quillsh called for him.

"The boy came with me. I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone I could leave him with."

"He can't be here..." The officer told Quillsh. "And you shouldn't either, we're going to process the scene now, so you should wait at home until we call you."

"...Alright." Mr. Wammy said after taking a deep breath. "Let's go home, L..."

Quillsh started walking towards the exit with L, not even bothering to look behind or say goodbye to anything. He just wanted to be alone with his thoughts. His thoughts and memories of his beloved Penny, who meant everything to him, who was the only one he really loved and the one he lived for. Now she was gone and so was his heart. There was nothing left to do except wait until he was able to bury her and say his goodbyes.

He clenched his fists and forced himself not to cry. He was a man. Men didn't cry. Not even when their world fell apart in front of them. Not even when their lives stopped having a meaning...

* * *

L sat alone in the kitchen floor looking at the ceiling. He enjoyed sitting in that spot. It was spaceful enough for him and the floor had a certain coldness that made him feel good for some odd reason. He was just there looking at the nothing, listening to the silence... It felt so lonely. There was no one around, no one to notice him sitting there, no one to ask him to get up or to offer him a hypothetical chicken cookie. It was then that he realized that even ordinary objects had some affection attached to them. That the reason why humans associated certain people with certain actions was because of the way they did the things they did. No matter how much time passed, rainy nights would always remind him of his mother, and chicken would always remind him of Penny, and chess would always remind him of Mr. Wammy... He wondered if anyone would remember him when looking at a certain object or event.

Even after they were long gone, their essence would remain in the things that involved them.

He stood up from his spot and left for the living room. There was Quillsh still, face buried in his hands, sitting next to the phone with a picture of a young version of him and Penny at his side. L didn't know what to say or do. Mr. Wammy was in pain, that was sure, and he understood the reason, but there was nothing he could do to make it right. He sat in the couch in front of him with his knees to his chest and closed his eyes, picturing the scene in his head again. It was a horrible thing to look at, really. Three corpses in one place, all so horribly murdered, for no apparent reason. He couldn't wash the image off his mind, it bothered him, beyond the fact that there was dead people involved, it... bothered him.

The phone rang. Quillsh quickly changed his position and picked it up.

"Hello? Yes, it's me. Yes... I understand. Thank you." He hang up and then noticed L was there in front of him. "They have no idea who the culprit may be. They theorize it was a random killing spree by some sociopathic bastard..." Tears started to fill his eyes as he couldn't contain himself anymore. "I know that you shouldn't know these things because you're a child... but I really need to speak to someone, anyone, and you're the only one around... I'm sorry for being such a selfish man."

"I understand..." L answered. "You don't need to apologize, Mr. Wammy. You don't have to worry about me."

"You're so mature for your age... that sometimes I forget you're just a kid. And I just want you to know that I'll make sure you find a nice home, as Penny would have wanted."

L felt a void again. His future had once more become uncertain. Well, so be it. He never had much control over his life anyway. He never had any control over anything, actually. He just let himself be guided by the circumstances and the people who happened to be there for him at the moment.

"Mr. Wammy..." He spoke again. "I want to be useful in this event. I don't want to be a burden for you."

"You're no burden, L, you're just a kid. You shouldn't even witness this sort of things."

He still felt like he needed to do something. So he just nodded, got up and went to his room, where he sat on the bed and started picturing the scene again. It bothered him... for whatever reason, it just bothered him to no end. It was clearly a display of the unfulfilled wishes of a sick, sick mind. Who could possibly want to kill 3 complete strangers? What for? At what cost? Whatever their goal was, was it really worth it? What was the killer's needs, his message? What was he trying to say? These questions bothered L more than the mere crime scene. He didn't mind the blood. He minded the impact it caused on other people, especially Mr. Wammy. He minded the concern it caused the police. It disturbed him how a single person's actions could have such a terrible impact on others.

He pictured the scene in his mind again, so clearly. Penny was lying on her back with a bullet in her heart. Susan was on her side, lying in a pool of her own blood. And the man was also on his back with a shot in his neck. In a museum. How did they get there and why had they been killed?

First of all, how did they get there? As far as he knew, Penny and her friend were at church. The only possible way they would get there would be walking all the way there, unless someone forced them to... but that was unlikely. So, one of them probably convinced the other... Knowing Penny, she wouldn't have done such a thing without making sure to call Quillsh first... so maybe Susan convinced her to go? To a museum? Out of nowhere?

Hmmm... He bit his thumb in thought. Maybe they were walking back home and noticed something interesting in the museum. Something interesting... What sorts of things could result interesting for Penny? Well, there were several. She liked anything related to being a housewife. She also loved children and animals. And music. He needed to know what was in the museum that could have gotten her attention.

"What do you mean you want to go back there?" Quillsh asked visibly shocked and worried, still sitting in the same spot in the couch as L had proposed the idea of returning to the crime scene. "There's nothing we can do now, L. We can't bring her back, and we can't even bury her until the detectives finish their research."

"But I think we can get a clearer idea of who may be the culprit if we go back to the place where it happened." He answered with his voice calm and sweet.

"What do you mean getting a clearer idea of who may be the culprit? We don't even have any suspects. Besides we can't do such thing. I'm an inventor and you're a child. How do you expect us to find something that the police missed?"

"We are connected to this, we are connected to Penny." L replied. "We can provide them information about her, we can notice if there's something unusual."

"You have a point there..." Quillsh answered. "I really just want whatever psycho bastard did this to go to prison and pay for it... How dare he take her away from me, from all of us, and then just get away with it?!"

His voice broke again and he buried his face in his hands to avoid looking at L. The kid didn't understand why, though, he didn't need to hide. He really didn't. He was a human being with feelings and weaknesses.

It was only then that L learned the meaning of justice. Justice wasn't always right. Obviously there was no punishment on earth equivalent to taking away the lives of 3 people, so locking these sorts of murderers away was the only price they could make them pay. It wasn't equivalent, it wasn't worth the lives involved, but it was just.

"Mr. Wammy..." L called again in a low voice. "This culprit shall go to prison. He is not getting away."

Quillsh knew that he was just a kid, but what he said comforted him. He really wanted to believe in this special child, L. He attempted to smile at the boy and sighed. "Yes."

So then both the boy and the inventor returned to the place where Penny had breathed for the last time. That area of the museum was still closed to the public, but it was located in an angle where you could easily take a good look at it. And take pictures too, which was what everybody seemed to be doing. People loved murders for some odd reason. They liked reading about them, and liked going to the places where they happened if they had the chance. It was part of the human nature. A morbid nature indeed.

They took this opportunity in their favor, and observed the area from a distance. They also overheard people comment on their own theories. L noted mentally every information he could gather, but for Quillsh it was all nonsensical local gossip.

They returned home in silence. On the way Quillsh bought some bread, supposedly to make himself a sandwich for dinner, but he wasn't really hungry, nor was he in the mood to even bother washing some tomatoes. He sat in the same spot of the couch in absolute silence, alone in his thoughts, after telling L to eat whatever he wanted. Even if he meant real food, L went for the cookies. While eating them he started to organize his thoughts. Maybe the cookies helped him think better. It sure seemed like it, for the ideas were flowing smoothly.

Penny and Susan were friends. The man was unknown to them. Why kill two friends and a stranger? Maybe the other man was friends with the killer. That would make them two pairs of friends. Alright. Penny and Susan were about the same age, and so was the man. It was possible the killer's age was similar to them. Or it could be a coincidence. Another cookie. Two women and a man. One had been shot in the chest, one in the limbs, one in the neck. Woman, heart. Man, neck. Woman, limbs. Hmm. Was this really random or was it personal?

* * *

The next day the police detective in charge of the case called Wammy again. They still didn't know who could be the culprit, but they were processing the scene looking for evidence that could lead them to a list of possible suspects. He asked Wammy to go over to the station to pick up Penny's belongings. He did as he was told and again, brought L along with him.

He was given Penny's clothes and her purse, as well as a piece of paper in a plastic bag. It was a flyer, and apparently belonged to her since they found it covered in her blood. Thus the plastic bag. Quillsh claimed he didn't want it nor need it, but they insisted on him having it, in case it gave him some information about her last activities. He took his wife's belongings and returned home, checking the purse on the way back. Everything was in there, her ID, her money, her make-up, her keys, everything she carried with her. Except...

"The photo is missing." He spoke out loud. L just blinked and looked at him. "The photo that she always carried in her purse. It was a picture of us when we were younger. She had it with her at all times."

And with this they returned to the station.

"Do you mean something is missing from the purse?" The detective asked the older man. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes, I'm absolutely sure. She always carried it with her. Always. Do you think the criminal could have taken it?"

The detective and the officer exchanged glances. "Why would a criminal want to take a family photo, instead of taking the money?"

"Why wouldn't he?" L's voice was heard. "If no one and nothing stopped him from murdering 3 people, then no one would stop him from taking the photo out of Penny's purse."

"What is the child still doing here?" The detective asked.

"I apologize again. I need to find someone to take care of him."

"Mr. Wammy, remember what people were saying at the museum. They said someone entered, no one saw his face and he just started shooting. Security had no time to do anything. If he could get away with 3 murders he could get away with stealing one of the victim's belongings." L added, ignoring the others' intentions to make him stop.

"L, we are not discussing if the murderer was able to get away with stealing the photo. We are discussing _why_, why would he take a photo and not the money." Quillsh explained to the kid.

"It's a _why_ question, just like wondering _why _he killed these people in the first place." L answered. "Just because money is a strong motive it doesn't necessarily mean that it is the reason. It's clear that he didn't enter the museum to rob it, and that he didn't kill them for money or expensive belongings. The photo means to him something else entirely. Are things missing from the other victims' belongings too?"

"...Who is this child?" The detective asked again, staring at him a little shocked.

"He's..." Quillsh decided he had to be honest in his answer. "He's a kid that Penny and I picked up from the streets. I will try to find him a home as soon as possible."

"He seems to know a lot." The detective remarked.

"Yes, he's... a very special boy indeed." Quillsh answered. "Well if the photo appears please let me know, it has sentimental value."

* * *

That night L couldn't sleep. He felt a certain rush, that forced him to think, to think better and faster. He felt as if he _needed _to figure this out, as if it was his obligation to Penny to figure out who had killed her. And why. After hours of lying in his bed unable to sleep, he decided to get up and go to Quillsh's little studio/lab room, as Penny liked to call it. In there he picked up a few books, as well as the bag with the bloody flyer, and the photo that Quillsh was holding to himself the day before, and that afternoon, as he sat on the couch sobbing to himself.

The next morning he had figured it out. Well, part of it.

He exposed it to Mr. Wammy.

According to his theory, Penny and Susan were walking back home from church when someone gave them the infamous flyer. It was almost impossible to read because of the blood, but he could tell it had something to do with a contemporary artist, whose new work was being exhibited at the museum. The two ladies had gone to take a look, and as they stood in the area where it was supposed to be, the killer appeared in front of them and shot them, as well as the other man. L deduced that the flyer was probably fake and alluded an exposition that wasn't actually there, so it was probably given away by the killer himself or an accomplice. For whatever reason, he wanted to specifically kill 3 people in that same spot, he wanted them all to be there at once and he killed each one of them in a particular way, then ran away. L also said that the victims' personal belongings were taken _before_ he killed them, for it was impossible for the killer to have time to rob them after killing them, when security would be after him.

According to the books he had consulted, -even if they were mostly police novels with fake characters, but he was certain they resembled reality somehow- murderers who killed several people at one specific spot using personal methods, had something to express. Considering he had taken Penny's photo as well, it was clear he was hinting at something.

Mr. Wammy didn't even blink. Now he was absolutely determined to catch the bastard.

* * *

They went to the police station yet again and Quillsh told them all about L's deductions. To his surprise they had already interviewed witnesses who confirmed that they saw a fourth person talking to the 3 victims just minutes before they were killed. Was he trying to extract information out of them? L bit his thumb. No. He already knew them. Somehow he had information about them, that was why he had decided to gather them there. The police had also retrieved the photograph... The half that showed Quillsh was on Susan's purse, and the half that showed Penny was in the man's wallet.

The case seemed to get more complicated, but for L it was starting to come together. The flyer, the flyer was handed to them by the murderer or an accomplice. It was given specifically to the 3 of them. Why? Why them? The photo. The photo showed a young marriage. Penny and Quillsh. A man and a woman. The murderer killed a man and two women. Why was there an extra woman? Could it be a mistake? No. He had made it clear that he wanted to kill 3 people exactly, for the methods for each murder were quite different. The woman's picture in the man's wallet. The man's picture in the woman's purse. And Penny... the photo belonged to her but she was left with nothing.

"Officer..." L called to the man. "Which of the victims was killed first?"

"L..." Quillsh said, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Sir, I know you can't leave this child with someone else, but you shouldn't let him be so informed on this case. He's a kid." The officer told Quillsh.

"I know, but..."

"Don't worry, sir." L interrupted. "It's already too late for that, I would have found out one way or another. I really want this culprit to be punished for what he did."

The two cops exchanged glances again, confused, then looked at Quillsh who seemed as lost as they were. L just observed them while biting his thumb, his big black eyes staring at them, like they were reading into their minds.

"This is absurd." The detective said with a sigh. "What is this now? A freak show? You want to present us a mini Sherlock Holmes?"

"I swear that he has figured it all out on his own. I'm convinced that this child is a genius. He learns things extremely quickly and he has great observing skills too." Quillsh explained.

"Yeah, yeah, ok. Look, we're very serious here, and this is not the only case we have, so I'd advice you stop distracting us with genius creepy children." The officer added. "And answering your question, it seems that Mrs. Underwood (Susan) was the first one to be killed, followed by Mr. Valliant (the man) and lastly, Mrs. Wammy."

"It makes sense..." L said, apparently lost in thought. "First the woman who hides a man, second the man who hides a woman, and thirdly the woman who has nothing."

"What are you talking about, L?" Quillsh asked, concerned and confused.

"Officer, I'd like to see your criminal records. I need a list of people who has testified for child abuse."

"Excuse me?" The officer said with a smirk. What did this kid think he was? "Please, sir, if you have no other questions, I would like to ask you to leave."

"Please don't ignore him..." Quillsh pleaded. "I know that it looks crazy but it's possible. This kid has a brilliant mind. He can be really helpful!"

"I'd like to ask you to leave, Mr. Wammy. Your recent behavior has been quite suspicious. You weren't with your wife at the time she was murdered, and then you come here trying to sell us the idea of a nameless child who really needs to see our records."

"Are you inisinuating--?!" He said getting desperate. L pulled on his sleeve.

"It's ok, Mr. Wammy." The boy said. "Sooner or later they will come to the same conclusion."

* * *

Quillsh was angry the whole day. He had just been insulted and treated like a suspect of his own wife's murder. And what hurt the most was that they mocked them. They mocked L. They were too ignorant to understand a mind like his. But he didn't seem to care much. Why then, why was Quillsh so upset about it?

Because he believed in L. Of all people, he would always believe in L. It was crazy, he was just a kid with a letter for a name, who came out of nowhere, who mentioned his mother from time to time and who would always reject chicken for cookies. That was all he knew, and yet he trusted him, he trusted him so much, that he could bet all of his inventions' money that L would get the answer one way or another.

And so the police decided to give the victims' bodies to the respective families, so they could give them a decent sepulture and let them rest in peace. They had concluded that the analysis of the bodies would lead to nothing, and they needed to research somewhere else.

L would never forget Penny's funeral. How Quillsh had a tailor made a suit that fit the small and thin boy, how careful he was with every detail concerning the whole ceremony from the flowers to the amount of people, how he went to observe her corpse every now and then and would burst out in tears. L would never forget it. It was the moment where he learned the thin line that separated love and death, and how these two concepts always seemed to go hand in hand. He couldn't grasp it, he couldn't bring himself to cry, but watching Mr. Wammy so devoted to his wife, even in death, almost made him _feel _it. The pain, the loss, the grieve. And the love, the adoration as well.

L understood. So he bowed his head and tried to mix between the rest of the people. He obviously failed, for he was the only kid there, and he was unknown to everyone. And Quillsh had separated from him to go arrange some thing or another, so L was on his own, ignoring people's stares and simply walking around looking for... he didn't even know what for... Justice, maybe? Peace? Answers? Affection?...

Yes, he would never forget this day.

* * *

Finally after a month of researching, a letter from the detective arrived at Wammy's house, where it was explained that they found the culprit. He was a man in his early thirties. According to his confession, both of his parents abandoned him when he was a child and left with their respective lovers, and he was raised by his aunt, who, in his opinion "was heartless", and she used to beat him up almost on a daily basis. This man had stated that as a kid he could never take revenge on them, and when he finally found himself being independent and strong enough, these people who ruined his life were already dead. He thought he had overcome it, but now that he had found himself beating his own child, he realized that it was not over, that his demons wouldn't stop tormenting him yet.

The day his ex wife denounced him for the way he was treating their child, he decided to take revenge on someone. Anyone. As long as he could take the burden off of his shoulders. So on his way home, he stood outside the museum, just a block away from his house, and observed people, realizing that so many of them reminded him of his broken and heartless family. In a moment of inspiration he made fake flyers for an interesting exposition in the museum, which unexistant author had supposedly stated that his art tried to raise awareness about child abuse. He had handed them to the people that resembled his family, and after they went inside, he entered too, walking around until he had them all close to each other. Then he had approached them, commented something about this unexistant author, and somehow started talking about some family topic that brought Penny to proudly take her photo out of her purse, which he took in one hand and then pointed them with the gun he had in the other.

First he had killed his "mother", by shooting her in the limbs, for never showing him any affection. Then his "father", by shooting him in the neck, for leaving without saying a word, and finally his "aunt", in the heart, for being, like he said, heartless...

The man was convicted and justice had prevailed. And L had been right. Quillsh felt relieved that the monster finally got the punishment that he deserved, and he also felt proud of L, who had ultimately proved how incredibly smart and useful he was. He had already made a decision. He would keep the boy, he would never be a father for him, but he would make sure to raise him, to educate him, and to let him do what he wanted to do.

And what L wanted to do the most was work on solving cases like this, or more difficult ones. He enjoyed cracking up the mystery, he liked making things _right. _They were not always fair, but they were right. Justice was never wrong. It was something he had learned at such a young age, and he loved it, he truly enjoyed it. It was the only thing that he thoroughly enjoyed. He was not normal, he wasn't entertained by things that normal kids considered fun. No toy cars, no jumping the rope, no. His fun was about putting an order to everything, it was about everyone getting what they deserved.

* * *

And so years passed with Mr. Wammy still selling his inventions and L remaining hidden to most people. Not only did he prefer to stay inside, it also avoided them more trouble. Mr. Wammy was simply tired of trying to make up excuses for the boy, he didn't have the time or the need for that. He simply prefered people not knowing about his existence at all. Ultimately they had found the way to make it work. Quillsh was still the inventor people knew him for during the day, and at night he was Watari, the agent who communicated people to L, the armchair detective with no face and no name, whom no one ever suspected to be a little boy. Quickly his fame had easily expanded when he had defeated the world's greatest detectives, taking their aliases as a prize. He could be all that he wanted to be, because Mr. Wammy was so proud of him.

When his fame had spreaded, and their economy improved considerably, they moved to a bigger house in an area where they weren't recognised by many. Quillsh still didn't get used to L's success. He still couldn't believe how a little unknown boy had accomplished so much and had helped so many people. From an inventor's point of view, L was quite possibly one of the best things that had happened to humanity, so he wondered what would happen to the world when L would eventually be gone.

And thus, Wammy's House was funded. L had no objections to this, in fact, the idea excited him. Knowing that there were children who wanted to be like him, who wanted it more than anything, it made him happy. It made him feel proud, admired and good. He had evolved so much... He had gone from being a child from the streets whose mother disappeared one day, to being the world's three greatest detectives. He had it all. He had money, he had endless amounts of sweets, and he had Watari by his side. The only person in the entire world he really trusted.

* * *

On November 5th, 2004, L found himself feeling sad. He hadn't felt that way since the day that Penny had passed away. It was a feeling comparable to the day his mother disappeared. He wondered if those feelings were related. Why would they be, and why would he be feeling them now? He understood that it was normal to feel sad when a person close to you died, but it was not as if he was supposed to feel it _before _those events happened... right? So L felt sad. And not understanding why, he turned to the only person he trusted.

"Watari..." He called to the older man, who had entered the room holding a trail of cookies of several different flavors.

"Yes, L?"

"I feel bad today."

"What do you mean, are you sick?"

"No." He shook his head, turning his eyes away from the computer screen to look at Watari's face. "I'm sad."

"Why is it?" The man said, not dissimulating his concern as he put the trail on a table and continued looking at the now young man, still sitting with his knees to his chest like he did when he was a child, still wearing a white shirt and blue jeans.

"I can't explain it well." He still couldn't grasp it, what was this feeling? It was like he felt the urge to return to being a child and being with his mother, or Penny. But why? "But I don't like it."

"You've been obsessing about the Kira case. You need to work on other things as well, to think of different things besides catching Yagami, I mean, Kira."

"I know." He nodded, biting his thumb. "I just feel like, I'm going to achieve it, but at the same time..." He stopped abruptly, lowering his eyelids. Then he spoke again. "Watari... Thank you."

He smiled awkwardly at the old man, who raised an eyebrow in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I've never taken the time to thank you for everything you've done for me. You've always believed in me, and done anything you could to help me. And even when I wasn't your child, you've always made me feel like it. You are like the father I never had." His awkward smile changed into a more natural one.

"L..." Watari approached him and patted him on the head. L's big and curious eyes observed him. He was still a child, no matter how much he had grown. "I care for you as if you were my own son, too."

And then L understood it. The pain and the void in his heart, when he found himself alone on the streets, when he had lost all hope of having a place to call home, and now... they were all the same. They were loneliness. They were a lack of affection. They were the feelings that people experimented when they lost a family member, a close friend, a lover, or even a close acquaintance whose presence they took for granted. It was a feeling of loss and sorrow, a feeling of things never going to be the same again. It was the feeling that some criminals experienced, in a higher and more twisted level, when they took revenge on someone for not giving them what they wanted, what they deserved... People died for affection, and killed for affection. It was something worth living for and dying for. And even if he wasn't like the rest, he was still human, and he felt it, too.

He recognised the feeling. He was about to lose something, no, someone who mattered a lot to him. And he knew it, because it was his fault. Because of him, he was going to lose this person. And that was shattering him.

"Watari..." He looked at him as a lost child. "If anything happens to me, I want you to delete all the data."

"No such thing will be necessary. You will solve this case just like any other."

And the man had smiled at the younger one, who still looked like a child to him.

* * *

Later that day, L truly felt it. As soon as the electricity went off, and his curious eyes, now full of real concern and _fear_, were looking everywhere for the man who was like his father, and found that all the data was deleted, he felt it. The devastating pain that meant he had lost the only person who cared for him, and whom he cared about. But thanks to whatever unknown force, it had been replaced for a much more powerful pain, at least in physical terms. And as he felt his heart stop beating, and his body falling in what seemed like slow motion, his life flashed through his eyes. He remembered Watari patting him on the head, bringing him cookies, he remembered going to Wammy's House to talk to the kids pretending to be a former member, he remembered the tea that Penny used to make, he remembered her smile and her voice, and his mother, whose face he couldn't remember, but he just _knew _that she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

And it was dissipated when he was about to hit the ground, and Light caught him. His diabolical grin showing him the face of fear and defeat. L had lost. For the first and last time. But it didn't matter anymore. Sleep, or something was taking over, and he found himself amazed by that light at the end of the tunnel that actually existed...

**The End.**

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

I've noticed that I'm one of the few people that still writes "the end" at the end of a story. I'm old-fashioned like that. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this first two-shot about L. I know that it's pretty average, if not failsome, and that it lacks a lot of things. I'm not entirely pleased with this, I know I could have done better, but it's my first time working on a DN fanfic, and I hope I can improve from now on. The next chapter is about Near and I'm already working on it, it will be a long way though. Thanks to anyone who took the time to read this, and if you take the time to review it will make me happy, even if it's just to say it sucks xD

Again, thanks, see ya in the next chapter! :D

-Raven.


	3. Nostalgia Part 1

"**Affection."**

Because everybody needs affection. Wammy's children reflect on this matter.

**Disclaimer:** Death Note belongs to Ohba Tsugumi and Obata Takeshi, not me.

**Author's Note:** Dear God, I like long stories don't I? Once again I had to break this chapter in 2, because it was longer than I expected. This one will be different from L's, because in this one we get Near's narration from the present and he goes back to flashbacks. I hope it doesn't turn too confusing.

**Warning:** There are huge, huge spoilers of the entire series.

And now on with the story!

* * *

**Chapter 2: Nostalgia.**

The large room was completely silent, just the way its occupant liked it. For him, silence was a gift... no, it was more than that. It was the ideal state. When everything was silent, it was easier to focus, to concentrate, to just let the thinking process go. Silence was perfect. It made him believe for a moment that he was alone in the world.

Nate River's pale hand lifted one final piece and put it in its right spot to complete his puzzle once again. He had done it 54 times. He knew it by memory. He could do it with his eyes closed. It wasn't a challenge anymore, it wasn't entertaining... then why did he constantly complete the same puzzle, over and over?

He finished it one last time and observed it for a moment. The image was pretty clear: it was a boy flying a kite with an adult. A particularly easy 2500 piece puzzle. It had all sorts of different colors, so it was easy to know how the pieces connected. He could solve it in 5 minutes, so it was plain boring now. Yet he still wanted to do it again, even if it gave him no satisfaction.

After he contemplated it for about 30 seconds, he lifted it up and flipped it over, closing his eyes as he heard the sound of the now disconnected pieces hitting the floor. His silence had been broken, but it was worth it. He took the pieces and put them in their rightful box, and pushed it to his right. Now he had nothing to do. No one called at this hour. No one needed L sometimes. Or maybe they just thought he needed sleep. Like he needed a schedule... He slept whenever he felt like it. And now he did.

He slowly stood up from the floor and started walking towards the door. His inmense white room seemed infinite. Another thing that made him feel like he owned a world for himself. He slowly opened the door and stood in the hallway, softly closing it behind him. It was dark. And no one was around to turn on the lights. Well, he didn't need that, he knew the way.

He started walking to the left as he raised a hand to twirl his hair with his thumb and index finger. His hair was longer everyday, but it was still lifeless. It didn't fall graciously, but it didn't call attention either. It didn't shine, but it didn't stand out for being messy either. It was just there to supposedly protect him from the conditions of the outside, but he never went outside. Besides, it was too light and thin to protect him from anything.

It was just like the rest of his body. Weak and thin, unable to protect him from the cruel world.

The young adult with a childish appearance continued his walk towards the bathroom, opening the door carefully and stepping in. For this he did need the light, so he turned it on, watching the lamp blink twice before it actually lit up the room. It was white too. What a surprise.

Nate liked white as much as he liked silence. It gave him peace. It allowed no disturbance. White was clean and pure.

He then stood in front of the sink and looked at his face in the mirror. It was just as white as everything else. And his hair was light, and thin, and weak. And his eyes were deep but dark... which made everything even clearer by contrast. There was nothing he could think about his nose and mouth. They were just another blank part of his face. There was nothing particular about them. They were supposed to be involved in facial expressions, but at that moment there was nothing to be expressed. He wasn't feeling anything.

He rarely ever did...

He took his –obviously- white toothbrush and put a generous amount of paste on it. Then closing his eyes he started brushing his teeth. He didn't know why he closed his eyes when doing that process. Maybe he just didn't want to see himself moving his mouth in strange ways and spitting a white substance... It was an ordinary thing, everyone did it. There was nothing to be ashamed of, it was absurd. Maybe even L used to do it.

Maybe even L _used to do it._

He suddenly felt uneasy. He decided he was done. So he spitted and rinsed his mouth, leaving the sink clean and clear like he had found it. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes again to find them meeting his own in the mirror. Those big, black, deep, emotionless eyes staring at him, facing him, judging him, stripping him to the core. For a moment he forgot they were his own. They looked so much like... Mello's eyes. They had that same damn 'I know what you're thinking' kind of stare, the one that was able to break someone in 2500 pieces, like a disconnected puzzle. The one that was exactly like his own. And that was a rather disturbing thought.

He closed his eyes again and shook his head, reaching out his hand to turn off the light. Then he opened the door and exited the bathroom, softly closing it behind him. There he was in the dark hallway again. But now he was thirsty. It was the same routine every night. Tooth brushing, then water, then sleep. Nate liked routines too. They kept everything under control. Under silent and white control.

Before he knew it he had entered the small kitchen of his department/office. He went straight to the fridge and opened it with one hand. All he could see was the leftovers of some sandwich that Gevanni had saved for the next day, Halle's supply of yoghurt, his own cold jar of water, and... chocolate bars.

He served himself a glass of water and closed the fridge's door, not wanting to think deeper of things that weren't worth his time. All he needed was his water so he could go to bed and call it a night. He drank half of it and walked towards his bedroom with the rest of the drink in his hands.

It was a long way to his room, and he would have liked to just focus on getting there, but he couldn't. There was something he hadn't been able to solve. And he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep until he had figured it out. He was unpleased with leaving matters unsolved. That was not who he was. That's not how _L _was...

And maybe that was the problem.

He finally came to his bedroom. He opened the door and switched on the light. There was his comfortable white bed and his toy box. He kept most of his 'childhood objects' –as Rester liked to call them to avoid offending him- in his office, where he had his monitors, and his work team, where the cases were solved, where he got the work done; but in his bedroom he liked to keep those that he had made himself. They had to be there, because he didn't want them to get too wasted or lost.

He put the glass of water in the small table next to his bed and then kneeled on the floor and opened his toy box. He inmediately found his finger puppets he had made during the Kira case. He didn't give a damn about Kira's puppet, or Mikami's puppet. They weren't useful anymore. But he could always use the puppets that represented L, Mello, and himself.

He took them out, sliding L's puppet in his thumb, Mello's puppet in his middle finger, and his puppet in his index. Then he observed them. He was proud of how he had made them. He thought that his own was very similar to himself, that he had captured Mello's image accurately, and that L had been made the best he could, considering he only had vague references and had never seen him in person.

But that didn't matter anymore. L was dead. And so was Mello. They were gone. They were never coming back. Then why in the world did he still use their puppets like they could be useful in _any _case? Like they would actually play a role in the game?

Unfortunately, he didn't have an answer for that.

Maybe _that _was the problem.

He continued to look at them, as if expecting an answer from those artificial, but penetrating eyes. They were both gone, but the memories remained. And it was those memories that helped him move day after day.

It didn't make any sense. They were just puppets. They had no life, they weren't the real L and Mello. Then what was this irrational, sick fixation?

He missed them... It was an unusual feeling for him, but he missed those people. And he needed them more than he ever thought he would need anyone. It wasn't their presence what he needed, because he had never been in the same room with L, and Mello didn't even like making eye contact with him; it was just the feeling that they would always be there, that was what he truly missed. Because both Mello and himself had been picked by L to succeed him, and that had tied them all forever. Somehow, L had continued to live on in both of them. But now Mello was gone too, and the tripod they had once been was now just a single part. A part that could never replace the other two. A part that just couldn't bear the weight and the responsability that was meant to be shared by two.

After all, L had never chosen one of them to replace him. He was the world's greatest genius, he knew. He knew that Near could never make it by himself.

He took a deep sigh and put the puppets back in the box. He closed it slowly and got up, then proceeded to lay on his bed. He comforted himself in a fetal position and put the thick white blankets around his fragile form. He felt weightless. Lifeless. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on sleeping, but he couldn't. He couldn't sleep until he solved the day's problem. He opened his eyes again and looked at the ceiling, the words replaying in his head.

"_L, we believe this is the right time for you to pick your own successor." _Watari, formerly known as Roger, had said, speaking in the name of Wammy's House.

Right. He was L now. He was 24 years-old, about the age the original L was when he had taken the Kira case, the infamous case that resulted in his death, that turned Mello and Near's competition into a serious matter, that pushed them to adulthood and into the cruel chaotic world. And now that he was this age, it was highly advisable that he would choose a successor of his own, in case he met the same fate that preceeded him.

And considering how weak and thin he was, it wouldn't be strange that he would drop dead at any moment... Or at least that was how he was perceived.

"_Understood"_, he had answered. _"I will start a preliminar selection process as soon as possible."_

But he couldn't do it. It was not that he couldn't choose one person, it was not that he didn't know the candidates, it was just that he didn't feel that he was capable of making such an important decision by himself.

How in the world was he going to pick a successor when he still felt like one? He was not L. No matter how many years he had played his role, it was just that, a role. He was not him. He would never be. And _that _was the damn problem. He was just a façade, he was a representation of a personality known as L, but he was not that person. He was Near... no, he was Nate River. Near was just another alias, another mask behind which he could hide and protect his fragile existence from the outsiders. Near was a mysterious persona that nobody, except for Mello, had truly known.

Near had been one of L's successors, he had been the one who funded the SPK. Near was gone now. He was replaced by L, this other role that he had to assume... Near was long forgotten, but even more so, was Nate River.

Nate River was known by even less people. He had been left in the corner of his conscience as soon as he joined Wammy's House. He had become Near ever since, and Nate didn't show up again until the final showdown against Kira. Nate River was also forgotten... and damn, he missed him.

He sat on the bed and closed his eyes, trying to come with a solution for his problem, but all he got was vivid memories that he thought were long gone...

"Hey, Nathan." A man called excitedly. The kid who was sitting on the floor looked up at him. "Wanna come play outside with Papa?"

"Um... I'm playing with my train." The 5 year old boy answered.

"I can teach you how to fly a kite..." He insisted. "Come on, you never go outside. Come play outside with Papa."

"Leave him alone." A woman said from the other side of the room. "If he wants to stay you should let him. Remember what the therapist said..."

"But he can't stay inside forever!" He yelled in frustration. "He will have to go out sooner or later."

"Stop forcing him, he will go out whenever he wants to." The woman replied.

The man sighed and then kneeled on the floor, to be able to look at his son in the eyes. "Come on, Nate... Just one time. For me."

The boy simply looked at him for a few seconds and then looked down. The man sighed again.

"You're not ready yet, huh?" He smiled as Nate laid his gaze on him again. "It's ok, you can take your time." He then ruffled his kid's hair and got up. "I love you."

"Tom, cut it off now." The woman insisted. "You're just stressing him."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." He said as he walked away from the kid. "I just want him to see that it's not gonna harm him."

"You're doing it wrong. He's not an average child."

"I know he isn't. He's a genius, but that doesn't mean that he has to be locked inside forever. He needs the sun and the fresh air..."

"It's always the same with you! You just can't accept that he's not normal!"

"You're the only one that keeps calling him abnormal!"

Nate could feel his small body shiver with every high sound of his parents' argument. He felt relieved when they were silenced by the doorbell.

"Oh, it must be your mother." The man told the woman as they both went to open the door.

"Mother!" The woman yelled happily. "You came just in time, as usual."

"We thank you greatly for this. We don't trust a nanny to babysit Nate." The man continued as he let the older woman come inside and closed the door.

"So what's the ocassion? It's kind of early for dinner. Are you going dancing, or the theatre, perhaps?"

"No, nothing of that sort, mother." The woman said, grabbing her coat at the time. "We're going shopping."

"We're buying Nate's birthday gifts." The man continued, also grabbing his own coat.

"Oh, but then I don't see why you don't bring him along with you." The woman's mother answered. "It's his birthday, so he should choose the toys he likes."

"We want it to be a surprise." The man replied.

"Surprise? He's 5. He probably doesn't even know what a birthday means."

"Well, Tom believes that buying presents behind a 5 year-old's back will surprise him and suddenly make him normal."

"Stop calling him abnormal! Damn it Alice, he's your child. Have you forgotten that?" Tom continued to yell, opening the main door.

"I haven't. You just can't accept him for who he is. You're always trying to change him." She kept up the argument, starting to exit. "See you later, mother."

They closed the door, leaving Nate alone with his train, his grandmother, and good old silence.

"Hey, Nate. Remember me?" His grandmother said approaching him. He looked at her, nodded and kept looking down at his train. "You... really like being alone... don't you?"

There was no answer from the boy. He did not _like _being alone, he just didn't see what was the difference with being with people. It was all the same. Every person lived to please themselves. He was just... transparent about it.

"Nate... May I play with you?" She insisted. She always did the same, trying to make conversation and spend time with the boy. He nodded and she sat in front of him, adding more pieces to the train station set. Nate just watched. "So, Nate, how have you been?"

She smiled, staring at him. He looked to a side, avoiding her gaze. "Fine..." And he curled a lock of short, white hair between his thumb and index.

Everything else was blurry. It was unimportant anyway. He could just remember the image of his younger self sitting on the floor with his grandmother, and the sound of the toy train travelling around them. He didn't know how much time passed. It went on and on. Minutes, hours... No memories. No sense of time... And then...

"Nate, we have arrived." He heard a voice wake him from a deep sleep. "It's here."

He looked around. He was inside a car, in the backseat, next to his grandmother, who was just waking him up. He had fallen asleep in the car. But why was he on a car? Where was he going anyway?

He felt his small, thin body be pulled out of the seat by his grandmother's arms, and then she put him on the ground, making eye contact with him despite her dark sunglasses. "I wanted to carry you, but I guess I'm too old."

She had smiled weakly, she had taken his small hand in hers and walked inside with him. He had looked around. There was a big amount of people. All dressed in black. All still and solemn. And the sun was so bright, it was burning his skin. It didn't feel right at all. He had looked around again, but he couldn't recognize a single face, except for the one holding his hand. Then they both reunited with a group of people, and they all hugged her, and she cried. She sobbed silently at first, then started crying out loud.

He just kept watching. Everyone looked the same. All black and blurry, all close and loud. Then one of them hugged him also, crying over his small shoulder. He couldn't remember this person. He didn't want to be surrounded by this person's arms. Suffocated. By a stranger. Out under the sun in the middle of loud cries and strangers dressed in black.

"Aaaaaaahhhhhhh!!!!!!!" He yelled, desperately, as loud as his lungs allowed him. The person holding him backed away, and suddenly everyone's eyes were on him. His grandmother grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him.

"Mom! Mom! Mom!" He called out for her. He could always run to his mother and she would defend him from anyone. She always let him do whatever he wanted. She said he wasn't like everyone else, so he couldn't be treated like everyone else.

"Nate! Nate! Look at me, please look at me." His grandmother insisted, but he kept screaming and crying. She lifted him in her arms and he started kicking the air in all directions. She took him away from the crowd and then sat him on a bench, where he just continued crying and screaming. She sighed, and then slapped him accross the face. He stopped. He had never felt so much pain. He looked at her and noticed she was shaking. "Your mother and father are gone to heaven now. They're not coming back, but they're in a better place."

He just couldn't understand that. He had never heard of heaven before. And if it was such a good place, why couldn't he go? Why had they gone without him? Were they tired of him? Did they hate him? Were they running away?

"I want my mom!" He repeated, as if he hadn't heard anything she just said.

"I told you, she's not coming back, but you got me. I will take care of you, you trust me, right Nate?" She said smiling, but her voice was breaking and he was convinced that she was crying again behind those thick black glasses.

"No, I don't trust you, I hate you, I want mom and dad!" He kept screaming. He didn't like this. He didn't like being kept away from his parents, he didn't like being lied to, and he didn't like this stupid and hot place where everyone was crying. And his parents had gone somewhere else and left him here. Why, just why?

"What's going on?" A younger voice, belonging to Nate's aunt, was suddenly heard. She had come into the picture, also wearing a completely black dress, her voice monotone but still loud enough for the others to hear.

"It seems like all of this is starting to affect Nate..." His grandmother replied.

"Well, it was something to be expected. After losing both of his parents at such a young age, it's only natural."

"I know... I thought young children didn't react the way grown-ups do."

"You have to keep in mind that he's not like most children. Raising him will probably be problematic for you."

It had been a month since Nate had lost his parents, that afternoon when they went to buy his birthday gifts. They had died in an accident, and they were never coming back. That was what he knew. He couldn't grasp the meaning like everybody else, but he got used to the fact that he would never see his father walk through that door and ask him to go play outside, and he would never hear his mother's voice again. Those things were gone, and he didn't know how to fill that void, so he used repetition. He simply spent his days doing the same things over and over. Solving puzzles, playing with his toys, pondering about things he already knew, as if making sure he hadn't forgotten anything he ever learned.

And if that wasn't enough he also had to move to his grandmother's house. He hated it so much. He hated it because it wasn't _his _house, it wasn't _his _life. It was as if he was an eternal guest that just wouldn't leave. He had yelled at first, he had protested, he had cried, he had punched the ground, all at the same time, but it didn't work. He was still a guest, he would always be. It hadn't worked. So instead, he chose silence. He didn't yell anymore, he didn't ask for answers, he didn't call out for anyone. He just sat in the same spot everyday to do the same things. He was alone with his thoughts, he was able to think clearly, and he was at peace. Because in his mind only what he wanted to happen, happened. There were no unpleasant surprises, there were no change of plans, no change of houses, no change of life. It was just him and his thoughts and plans.

No matter how much his grandmother tried to get him off his thoughts, he wouldn't allow it. He felt better that way, he wouldn't let anyone disturb his peace, so he would only answer when he wanted to, he only asked what he wanted to, and he would do what he wanted to. And she would feel frustrated about it, but it wouldn't work. He didn't need the world to accept him, and he didn't need to accept the world. It was not as if he had chosen his fate.

Eventually they would all give up.

"Nate... I know your mother used to say that she didn't want you to go to a normal school, and I want to respect her wishes, but I think you're old enough to start attending, and I don't have the means to send you to a special one, so I have enrolled you in a public school." She had said in a particular day, but he didn't respond nor did he look up from his puzzle. "I think it will be good for you. You will make some friends, and learn lots of things..."

He didn't look up. He didn't need more changes. He couldn't take them anymore. But he had no choice, there was nothing he could do. Protesting was useless. He couldn't change the outside world no matter how much he tried, but his own mental world, that was his and only his. And no one could ever affect it. In it he felt the comfortable and white silence, all the time.

* * *

"This is it!" His grandmother announced happily as she left him inside the school on his first day. "Are you ready to start?"

Nate simply curled a lock of hair between his fingers, looking down and holding his toy robot to his chest. He was hating it. But he didn't feel anything. He didn't see the need, because it wouldn't help. He wouldn't cry or complain, it was useless, therefore he didn't need those feelings. He didn't need to show how weak he felt, if it would lead him to nothing.

He remembered how he sat in the first row, how all his little classmates observed him, how even the teacher had looked at him longer than necessary, and how he could feel their eyes on him but he wouldn't look back at them. His grandmother had talked to the teacher about his 'condition' and his 'special needs', thinking that he wouldn't hear. He did hear, he just didn't care. So what if he was different? It wasn't as if everyone else was exactly the same.

During class, the teacher would come once in a while and make sure he was understanding. He did, perfectly. It wasn't complicated at all, they were just colors and numbers and things he already knew. He knew them all, but they didn't interest him. Why couldn't people tell the difference? His classmates, on the other hand, asked him all sorts of strange questions, like, why was he so pale, why was he so quiet, and if he had a pet and what was its name. Why would they care? Why was everyone so curious and morbid? What would they win by knowing? It wasn't as if his life was _that _interesting.

It seemed as if there was absolutely no one in the world who truly understood him.

His mother had always been overprotective, she always made sure that he wouldn't get hurt, she had always treated him as if he was easily breakable. He knew he wasn't. He was not a toy, he wasn't made of plastic, he wouldn't break. But she didn't understand, he was her little precious treasure. His father, had tried to make him something he was not, he tried to change his nature, his personality, his behaviour. Tried to make him act like a 'normal' kid would, as if no one would notice the difference. Like he cared about other people's thoughts, like he cared to be like them, why did he have to look and act like others? What would he accomplish with it? Would it make him part of some special club that would give him benefits for life? He doubted it.

His grandmother wasn't even sure. She was an anxious old woman, she didn't know him well enough, so most of the times she didn't know how to deal with him. She took advice from anyone, making her act contradictorily. And now the teacher was another person who just tried to make him 'fit in' and 'feel comfortable' instead of just letting him _be._

* * *

Back to the present, the new L still couldn't sleep. Memories were filling his already tired mind. Memories from his previous names and personas, all parts of him he thought he had buried. Why were they returning now? He should be focusing on either sleeping or thinking of an adequate selection process that would lead him to finding the next successor for L. And he couldn't do any of these if he was just reminiscing his childhood for no apparent reason. Even if he pretended that little boy named Nate River was not him, he couldn't deny that some things remained the same. And one of them was, that in all these years, the only 2 people that ever, ever, truly understood him, were L and Mello. They were not like the majority of people, but they were not like him, either. They were how they were, and yet they never tried to protect him, they never tried to push him to change, they never were falsely nice to him, they didn't mean to be his friends out of pity, and they never tried too hard for him. They were who they were, and for that, they had earned his eternal admiration.

But now they were gone too, and he went back to being missunderstood. It didn't particularly affect him, it wasn't as if he _needed _to be understood, but... it felt so much better when he actually was. It felt as if he could finally say out loud what he was thinking, like someone could actually decipher it. Being understood was good. But he was almost 100% sure he would never be understood again.

* * *

"I understand you wanted to talk to me." Nate's grandmother said as she approached the teacher's desk, while the rest of the children left the classroom.

"Yes, you are correct." She said standing up. Nate was holding his grandmother's hand reluctantly, looking at the teacher into the eyes, wondering what they were going to talk about. It had something to do with him, that much he knew. But what, exactly? Was she going to report everything he ever did? "We have the results of the kids' evaluations, and Nate's results are outstanding,"

It had been almost a month since he had started attending school. He had realized it wasn't a big deal. School was easy, he just had to do what he was told, which was usually coloring, cutting and pasting, and calling things by their names. He could do all that. He didn't want to, he didn't have to, but he could. And since there was no choice, he just did it all without protesting.

"He has excelled at all our activities, and I would dare say he's above the rest of the class..." the teacher continued. "However, he doesn't seem to adjust well to his classmates, he seems to feel awkward among them, and hasn't made any friends."

"Well, as I told you the first day, that's something to be expected, considering his condition, and the recent loss of his parents..." His grandmother answered. "Since he was born he's always been like this, sort of wrapped inside himself, you know? And now since his parents are gone, he's been quieter than ever. Sometimes he can spend hours sitting in a corner doing the same thing over and over..."

"Yes, he does the same here, but he still completes all our activities, and he's a very smart kid."

"Did you hear that, Nate? You're a very smart kid." His grandmother said looking at him a little too excited. It was no big deal, he thought, but for her it apparently meant the world. "Granny's very proud of you."

"So, I was wondering if you would allow Nate to participate in a test that will be taken next week, where a few kids will be selected to join a school for gifted children. I believe he might feel more comfortable if he's among other kids with his same level of development and intelligence."

"A school for gifted children? Does that mean he will abandon this school?"

"Yes, well, most schools in the area are excited to participate, because if a child from this particular school is selected, we will be generously rewarded. It's a win-win situation."

"But, is the other one different? In economical terms, I mean."

"Oh, it is for free. The principal is a philantropist inventor, he's only interested in releasing the great potential that these children have."

"A school for gifted children? For free? I'm sorry to be skeptical, but it doesn't sound too plausible. Is it really like that?"

"If you want, you can come over next week and talk to the man himself. He will explain all the details to you."

"I will definitely consider that."

* * *

The next thing Nate remembered was solving a test in a big classroom with several other children, most of them seemingly older than him. It was a reading comprehension, math and logical test. It was more complicated than the ones they usually made, but it wasn't too hard for him. He thought it was... interesting.

Meanwhile, his grandmother was in the hall talking to the man who had applied them the test, being all overly excited and anxious as usual.

When he completed the test he put it in the man's desk and left the classroom.

"How did it go, Nate?" His grandmother asked looking down at him. He took a lock of hair between his fingers and avoided her gaze. The man was still there. Nate just nodded.

"You were the first one to complete it." The man said. "Did you finish it?"

Nate nodded again.

"I'm telling you, he's really smart for his age. He's introvert and particular, but he's definitely special." She commented.

"I can see that." The man was now smiling. Nate noticed that people always smiled when complimenting him. He wondered why. He knew that there were different types of smiles. They mostly meant happiness, other times they were given to reassure the other person that everything was okay. But he didn't understand why everyone smiled when saying he was smart. Were they happy because he was smart, or it was their way of telling him that it was a good thing?

Hm... He wasn't even sure if it was a good or a bad thing. It was something you were born with, that you could develop. Did it mean that was good? Either way, it didn't matter. He had enjoyed the test and now it was over. Soon he would be home, where everything was controlled, quiet and white.

* * *

Only a few days later, when Nate's grandmother went to pick him up, the teacher stopped her and asked to talk to her for a moment. It was unusual. Something was odd. He followed them to the principal's office, where they all gathered.

"What's going on? Did something happen?" His grandmother questioned.

"Well, not exactly, but we have news for you." The principal told her. "Nate River got the perfect score in the test, he has the intelligence of a 13 year old."

"What?! Really? Oh my, I knew he was smart, but-!"

"Indeed, he got the highest scores in this area of the country." Nate's teacher continued.

"I can't believe it! Did you hear, Nate?" She turned to face him, but he was just playing with his hair, looking away.

"You understand what that means, don't you? Nate has won the chance to study in one of the best institutes of the whole world, which is not only a school, but an integral center that provides everything an exceptional child could need, and more. It's a school, a home, a recreation center, a place where they can learn and make good use of their skills... and it's absolutely free." The principal continued, a big smile on his face, since of course this had benefits for the school as well. That Wammy person must have been extremely rich and extremely bored.

"I can't believe this. Oh my God, finally, a ray of hope shines for us in the middle of our disgraces, Nate!" She said, tears in her eyes, as she hugged the thin boy.

"I'm glad you're taking the news so well." Came the voice from a man who had just entered the office. His white hair and mustache, as well as his serene expression and voice, were unmistakable. It was the man who had applied them the test, the head of Wammy's House, Mr. Wammy. "I would like you to know all the details of inscription before you make your decision."

"I don't understand... How can such a school exist absolutely for free? There must be some trick behind it." His grandmother said, half jokingly, half actually wondering.

"There is..." Mr. Wammy continued, then he paused and looked at Nate's teacher. "I hope you don't mind, but I want this conversation to be kept as private as possible."

"Don't worry, I won't tell absolutely anyone!" She answered.

"Pardon me if I didn't make myself clear. I'm asking you to leave." Her eyes widened. "And please take Nate outside with you. This only concerns the principal, Nate's grandmother and myself."

She did as told and stood up silently, offering a hand for Nate to take. Usually he wouldn't habe obeyed, but he had heard Mr. Wammy's words, so he took the teacher's hand and left the room with her. Then she closed the door with some unnecessary strength.

* * *

Back to the present, the new L found himself sitting on his bed, eyes wide open, shocked by the fact that he actually remembered those things in such detail. Why did he remember then right then? Why not earlier, why not ever? Now he definitely couldn't sleep. He stood up and turned on the lights, going again to his toy box and taking out his tarot cards. He started to place them one by one on the floor, then when the structure was planned in his mind, he started to build something with them. If he did it right, they wouldn't fall.

And maybe if he did it right, the solution would just come to him.

* * *

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Mr. Wammy asked, standing in the door of Nate's grandmother's apartment –he would never get used to call it his home- as she nodded furiously, but never stopped crying, and hugged Nate so tightly that he thought his bones would break.

"I love you, I love you so much." She told him as she kissed his cheeks. "I will miss you forever, honey, but this is what's best for you. You'll finally be in a place where you're understood, where there's other kids like you, where you don't get bored. Where you'll finally be happy."

"Will I get to be with mom and dad?" He asked blankly.

"No, no honey, not yet. But it's a really really good place. Like heaven on earth." She said smiling wider than ever. "Good luck, my little one, till forever."

"Well, we're settled then, aren't we?" Mr. Wammy asked as he picked up two suitcases filled with Nate's belongings.

"Yes, are you sure you don't want me to walk you to the car?" She asked anxiously.

"No, we're okay." He waved goodbye and took Nate's hand. He just stood there staring at his grandmother.

"Nate, follow Mr. Wammy, it's okay." No, it was not okay. It was confusing.

"I don't want to." He answered, staring directly at her.

"He doesn't want to leave me," She said still crying.

"No. He doesn't want to change his lifestyle, that's all." Mr. Wammy answered. "He will get over it, we will provide everything he needs."

And then he found himself walking away with the man, his grandmother still crying her eyes out, as he wasn't sure of what in the world was going on. He hadn't seen her cry so much since his parents died, and she had also mentioned that they had gone to a much better place, so it had to mean that he was going to die soon as well. He wondered how death was. It meant he ceased to exist, but somehow he was still remembered...

It was an intricated concept.

He remembered sitting in the backseat of a large black car, he remembered the man –Mr. Wammy, was he called- putting a safety belt for him, smiling at him, ruffling his hair and then closing the door, as he sat in the front seat and placed his hat on the passenger's seat. All these behaviours meant nothing to Nate, but somehow, the fact that they ruined his carefully planned routine upset him, it didn't feel right, and now he didn't know how to respond. Why didn't anyone tell him how to respond if a situation like this aroused?

So the man drove away, and the mix of the movement, the boredom and the futile resistance led him to falling asleep. What else was there to do? He couldn't protest, he didn't have a choice, if he said no, they would still make him go, and judging by his grandmother's words they would never meet again. They were too many changes for such a young boy, and frankly he was already tired of fighting against such an unfair reality. So the only thing he could do was escape. Sleeping was the more obvious choice, of course he could also play the same thing over and over for hours with no purpose other than denying that the world around him was changing, and even if he refused to admit it, so was him.

* * *

Nate was always pushed to reality, he was always pushed to accept it whether he liked it or not, he got used to just going with whatever external forces had planned, and things didn't change much when he became Near, and even less when he became L. Actually, it only made matters worse. Near was the representation of L, he had to be a role model and an example for the rest of his peers, he had to have perfect grades and excel at all the activities in Wammy's House. He just went along with them. He didn't _want to_, he didn't feel especially motivated to do that, but he _had _to, it was his responsability, one that he hadn't chosen, of course. And now that he was actually L, it was worse. His whole identity had been taken away. He was no longer Nate River, not even Near, he was L. Not the L that died, not L the person, L, the symbol, the icon, the concept. He was not considered a person anymore, he was just the representation of something that trascended humanity, that trascended both reality and imagination, that would forever live on and shall never be forgotten, something that meant so many things for mankind, and that mantained that certain magic because it was unreachable.

Then it hit him. Who in the world was he? He knew _what _he was, but not _who. _He had lost his identity the moment he had entered that house that sealed his fate forevermore. As he tried to pile up the cards he found his hands shaking. It was absurd, but he had actually been attacked by an existential question. And as far as he could tell, it was one of the few questions he had ever left unanswered. It was also one of the few questions that actually impacted him enough to cause a physical reaction in him.

Now he had two questions to solve. Who would be his successor, and who was _this_ successor. How could it be that they had chosen him, of all people, to succeed such an important person, when he didn't even know who he was? Perhaps that was the reason. Since L, the icon, was just that, they didn't need a _person_ to take that place, they needed something void of all pre-existing memories or concepts that biased his judgement. Basically a clean copy of L. A thinking machine, if you will. Someone, or something, that shared the previous L's sense of logic and direction, but that lacked his uncopiable and unrepeatable humanity.

Perhaps that explained why A, BB or Mello could never fill those expectations. Their own personalities made them reject that notion, one way or another, while N simply went with it. He had no reason to protest, so it was okay.

Why did it take him so many years to figure that out?

That was another question that would keep him up that night.

Meanwhile, memories kept flooding his already tired mind.

* * *

"Here we are. And from now on, don't tell anyone your real name. We'll come up with an alias soon." Mr. Wammy had said, as he held the child's hand while they stood in front of the large doors that would lead them to the house. Through the fences, Nate could see some older kids running around in the yard, shouting and laughing. He felt fear and uncertainty. This was not his environment. What, exactly, was he supposed to do there?

As the man walked with him through the entrance, he could see the kids stopping what they were doing and turning to look at him, as if he was a new purchase. And he probably was. They were studying him, scrutinizing him with their eyes. He disliked the feeling greatly. As they went inside more eyes studied him, and then finally they arrived to a small, empty room.

"This will be your bedroom. I hope you feel comfortable." The man said as he put the suitcases on the floor. Nate just observed the room, taking in how empty and blank it was. Perfect. Blank and empty meant no more drastic changes. And no more drastic changes meant no more anxiety. He would be fine. "I'll tell one of the teachers to help you unpack."

Nate turned to the man and nodded. Once again he couldn't refuse, he'd just have to go with it.

Just like Mr. Wammy had said, a teacher soon came to help him unpack, asking him where he wanted things to be placed. She had also informed him that from now on, when he was asked what his name was, he would say Near. He had agreed, not that he really had a choice. When they were done unpacking, Near cuddled in his new bed and thought about the most recent events, and no matter how much he thought of it they just didn't make any sense. He had lost his parents, changed his residence, his name, his school. And why? No one could answer him. Maybe it was just a very long dream.

Then he heard a knock on the door. He turned around and noticed it was open. There was a boy about 2 or 3 years older than him standing by it.

"Uh, sorry, did I wake you up?" The boy asked. Near noticed he was quite... colorful. His hair was a bright sort of red brown, with some odd... how were they called? Glasses? Not exactly, but close enough... well, some really odd... things that were a mix of orange and yellow, a red and black striped shirt, aqua green shorts and brown shoes. Colorful indeed. The contrast between the boy and himself was astounding.

"No, I was not sleeping." He answered.

"Oh, good! So... can we come in?"

We? We who? Nate just nodded. The door was open anyway. Anyone was free to go in.

"Come on, Mels, he's not sleeping." The boy said smiling as he entered the room and took a look around.

"It's not Mels, it's Mello, you lazy idiot!" After him came a boy probably a little older, almost as thin as Near himself, wearing black pajamas, barefoot, with shiny blonde hair and piercing eyes that were also studying the room but also studying its occupant.

He was not even half as colorful as the other one, but there was something about him that just dragged attention inmediately. Perhaps it was those eyes, those piercing black eyes that seemed to see through the depth of anyone's mind. Near had to admit he felt uncomfortable.

"Hi." Said threatening-looking boy said, smiling. "We heard there was some new kid and we wanted to come meet you." Near saw the other one smile too, and wave.

"Hello. Nice to meet you." He said hesitatingly, not quite sure if that was the answer they expected.

"I'm Mello, and this is Matt, and we're the first and second best children in Wammy's House." The blond kid said raising his voice, smiling but still looking threatening. "I will become L's successor!"

"And when you die, I'll take your place!" Colorful-kid continued.

"How do you know you won't die first?"

"Um... I don't know, but I need to hold on to something."

"...Alright, I guess... Anyway, since we're the best kids in the house, if you have any questions or doubts you should come up to us." Said the blond kid, then he entered the room and took a seat in a chair that was placed in a corner of the room. "So, questions?"

Near just stared at him. It was like those eyes were dragging him. He looked threatening, but not scary, it was hard to describe. It was like he knew he _could_ do something, but he_ wouldn't _do it. Then the blond's expression changed from a confident smile to a confused look.

"Hm. So, why are you here?" Mello asked.

Near didn't have the answer for that. He really didn't. His eyes went wide as he searched his mind for the answer... but it was confusing. He was there because he had been taken there. That was all he knew.

After a few seconds of silence, Mello asked another question. "Where are your parents?"

"Mello!"

"What?"

"You can't ask him that, you just met him, that's rude!"

"So what, isn't that the reason why we're all here? Don't mind him Near, answer the question."

"My parents... are not in this world anymore." He did have the answer for that, short and simple as it was.

"Sorry to hear that... Mine too." Mello answered. "But at least we had them, unlike other children, who simply were abandoned."

There was silence for another while as Near tried to process everything. He wondered what they had in store for him now. Why he had been brought there and what were they planning to do with him.

"Anyway, we're on our break now, so come on, we'll introduce you to the other kids." Mello said leaping from the chair and walking towards the door again. "Well the cool ones, anyway."

Despite not knowing what exactly that meant, he followed the kids downstairs and then outside, where other children were playing, running after a ball and taking it away from each other. His father used to call it soccer. He also called it a sport. He never saw the point.

"Hey everyone, this is the new kid that arrived today." Mello said as he came into the field with Near and Matt, making everyone stop playing and turn to stare at Near. "His name's Near."

"Oh, it looks like you could use some sunlight." One of them said, one that looked a lot older than them, maybe 5 years older.

"He's not very talkative." Mello commented.

"Are you collecting them now?" Another kid said, and he high fived the one who talked first. Matt's face turned into an angry pout.

"Shut up, it's not my fault everyone wants to hang out with me 'cause I'm the best." Mello said smirking. "Pass me the ball."

As Mello joined the other kids' game, Near noticed Matt went to sit on a bench nearby, and pulled out a video gaming device. The object caught his attention, so he unconsciously ended up sitting next to him to see how he was using it. Matt didn't seem the mind that he was being watched, he was absorbed in his game as Mello was in his own. Near, on the other hand, just watched passively,turning the game that Matt had in his hands to the one that Mello was playing with his legs.

The contrast was fascinating.

"He's awesome, isn't he?" Matt said in a low tone, eyes still fixated on the device. "Mello really can do anything." Near didn't say anything as usual, and Matt went on. "He's my best friend." And then for the first time since he started playing, he turned to look at the pale boy. "Do you have one?"

"One?"

"A best friend." He shook his head. "You should get one, someone to share your food with, who protects you from bullies... well, other bullies." He chuckled.

A best friend, what did it mean? He had heard the term before, but what did it truly mean? A best friend was a person, that much he knew, so how could a person _have_ a person? How could they call them "my"? It was that part of human relationships which he always had trouble understanding.


	4. Nostalgia Part 2

**Disclaimer:** Death Note is not mine and will never be. It belongs to Ohba Tsugumi and Obata Takeshi.

**Author's Note:** Here's the second part of Near's chapter. I gotta tell you it was hard for me to write because to me Near is very complex and very hard to empathise with. However I tried my best, and in the end I don't know if I succeeded in portraying him right, but what I did accomplish was that I ended up liking him a lot more, by trying to put myself in his place. Anyway, I hope you will enjoy it.

* * *

The days passed smoothly from that day. Everyday was the same. He woke up in the morning, brushed his teeth, took a shower, got dressed and went to have breakfast with the other children. Then they started class, after class, after class. They had a lunch break and a spare hour for recreation. Then there was more class, dinner, homework time and then they all went to bed. He felt comfortable with the routine. It was like being in school full time. Well, that was actually what Mello told him it was. And ah yes, Mello and Matt were always with him, guiding him along with the teachers who kept asking him how he felt and if he needed anything. He didn't know why they all seemed so preocuppied. But Mello and Matt were different, they never asked him how he felt, they just reminded him on what activity would take place the next hour and whatnot. Mello also made sure to remind him that he was the best around, and that he would become L someday. Something that Near didn't understand at all.

On a regular day, maybe 5 or 6 after his arrival, Near was sitting in his room playing with his toys when he heard a loud knock on the door.

"Come in." He said, not turning around. Then the door opened fully as Mello came in looking like he had run a mile to get there. Now Near had to look.

"Oh my God." Mello said as he got his breath back. "I just heard that L is going to communicate with us through a microphone sometime this month! Can you believe it? L is gonna talk to us!!"

Silence.

"Don't you see what this means?!" Mello said as he went closer, looking at him straight in the eyes.

"No, I don't." Near had to admit, he was a little frightened, now that Mello had that exasperated look on his face.

"Dammit, you're slow." Mello said, making a weird face. "It means that he's gonna talk to us, to _me, _he's gonna get to know me, and he'll probably tell me that he has chosen me as his successor. That's what it means."

His... successor..._ His. _Oh, so that was one of those cases where people owned people.

"I see."

"You don't see how great this is, do you?" Mello asked. Near shook his head. "That's because you don't admire L, like I do."

"Admire..." the younger boy repeated the word slowly, as if trying to find a hidden meaning in every letter.

"Yes. Okay, since I'm in a good mood, and you're new and all, I'm gonna break it down for you." Saying this, Mello sat on the floor next to Near, which startled him a little. He wasn't used to people invading his space like that, especially showing themselves so overly excited. "L is the greatest detective of all time, he has solved over five million difficult cases on his own, he does things that nobody else can do, he's the smartest and most skilled person, ever. Don't you agree that, when he dies, the world will lose the greatest thing that has happened to it?"

"...Yes."

"So, since his identity is unknown, it's better if nobody even finds out when he dies. Having that in mind, Watari, who is the mysterious man who connects L to the world and viceversa, has created this institution in order to raise genius children who may take up L's place someday. And since I am the best around, I'll get to become L someday!!"

Complicated as it was, it was starting to fall in his head. Like pieces of a puzzle finally connecting, finally _making sense. _Near was on his way to become someone's successor... or not. That part was not so clear.

"And what about me? What am I doing here?" He asked the older boy, confusion still floating in his mind.

"Well, you're a genius boy too, so you're being raised as a possible L successor." He answered. "But you will lose. Because I'll be the only successor, and when I die, Matt will be my successor."

The question remained open then. What was he going to do? What was Nate, no, Near going to live for? What was the meaning of all those changes, if he wouldn't be rewarded in the end? This was his life now. There was no more mom and dad, no more doctors, no more pre school, no more therapists, there was just L and successors and competitions and other children. That was his only reality. And he didn't feel comfortable with it at all.

"Are you alright?" Mello asked, noticing the boy hadn't answered, and kept his stare fixated on the floor. He still didn't answer, so Mello raised up slowly and left the room.

He had a lot to process.

* * *

The following days were as usual. Mello was jumping around being extremely active and extremely energetic, Matt was always following him, the rest of the kids had their own routines, the classes were always uninteresting and the food was normal. Near had gotten used to all these activities and already considered it his new routine, which was relieving, because routines always eased up his anxiety. And since they were the only things he had a guarantee of, he was going to live them fully. He was going to try his best to enjoy them. So he did his best in classes, he ate all his food, and slept as much as he needed to sleep.

"Aaaaah, I really don't get it at aaaaall." Matt whined as he collapsed in front of his textbook. He had been studying with Mello in the hallway all day long, and he seemed very frustrated about it.

"Try to open your head, Matt, it's not that hard!" The blond kid nagged him. "Hey, Near, did you study already?" He asked the boy, who was just passing by at the moment.

"Yes." He answered.

"And you understood?" Matt asked loudly, lifting his head from the book. The boy nodded. "Sit here with us!"

Near did as told and he sat to study with them. They went through all the learned and tried to explain it to Matt, who seemed like he was just beginning to understand. Overall it was a successful study session.

After they finished, the three boys walked toward their respective bedrooms. As Near was about to enter his own, Mello said: "Hey. I liked studying with you. Let's keep it up tomorrow."

And so they did. For the following days until the first exam, the three of them always got together to study. But while Matt always seemed lost and distracted, Mello and Near always got everything quickly and simply, and they could form concepts easily. They made a good team. Studying was easier than ever.

* * *

"Grace... Hercules... Jinx... Linda..." The teacher called the children's names as she gave them the results of the test. Some of them smiled, others seemed disappointed, and others simply didn't seem to give a damn. That same thing applied to those who waited.

Mello was wearing a confidant grin on his face. Matt wasn't even paying attention. And Near was simply observing everyone. He was pretty sure he got a good result. It was easy. And he knew that Matt would have got a good result too if he had just put more effort into it. While Mello was the first of the class, so he probably got the best results.

"Matt..." the teacher called and gave him his exam. He folded it and put it into his notebook.

"How much?" Mello asked him.

"Who cares?" Matt shrugged as he took out his gaming device and got lost into his fantastic little world. Mello glared at him with disapproval.

"Mello..." As soon as he heard his name he stood up and practically snatched the exam away from her hands.

"Why are you so anxious? You'll get a 10, like always." Some pig-tailed girl, named Linda, told Mello with an annoyed look on her face.

"Shut up, you jealous fool." The blond kid replied. Then he looked at his exam. A perfect 9.7. He smiled happily and sat down again.

"Near... Wow Near, considering your age and the little amount of time you have spent here, this result is impressive. Congratulations." She said as she handed him his test. He got up to take it and read it.

9.7.

Mello did as he could to look from his shoulder to Near's exam, who was sitting right behind him. His eyes went wide. "We got the same score."

Near looked at both exams and nodded. "Yes."

"This is the first time someone gets the same score as me..." Mello said, still looking at both exams. "I guess it's because we studied together."

"Yes. It was an easy test."

"Hey Matt, you better watch out for this one, he may steal your place!" Mello told his friend loudly, with a mischievous look, as Matt took his eyes off his game for a moment to watch what would soon become the first chapter of a tragical story of envy and rivalry.

* * *

"Hey Near, I heard you got the same score as Mello." Linda told the pale boy as she sat in front of him at his table during lunch. "It would be great if you were the one who got to succeed L instead of him, you know, because he's such a loudmouth. You're quiet and you don't disturb anyone. We like you much more."

"Really? If that's so, how come you've never said it to my face?" Came Mello's voice, who was just standing behind her, holding his own plate. He then set it on the table and took a seat, followed by Matt of course. "Are you a coward, Linda?"

Near saw the girl stare at Mello with a frightened look and then pick up her plate. "Where are you going?" He asked with that frightening glare again. "I thought since my name came up, I was part of the conversation."

"Uh, I think I will sit with Rex and Fleur." She got up quickly. He grabbed her hand.

"Listen. No matter what you do, I _will _be L's successor. Whether you like it or not. Got it?" She nodded furiously and left off. He stuck the fork in his meal and began eating away. "Stupid girl... So. Near. Turns out you're smarter than I thought. How about we team up for projects from now on?"

"Hey wait a minute! WE always team up for projects!" Matt protested.

"I know, Matt, but you don't even do anything. I end up doing all the work."

"That's because _you want to_ do it all by yourself! You never let me do anything."

"Oh, right, because you put soooo much interest in what we're doing."

"Hey! It's not my fault that all projects are boring."

"It's not that they're boring, it's that you don't give a damn if your grades drop or not."

"Well, excuse me, but there's no chance for me to ever defeat you, so no matter how hard I work, I will never be number one. That's why I find it all pointless." He emphasized his point by grabbing a spoonful of smashed potatoes.

"Which proves my point..." Mello continued. "Near, do you care about projects at all?"

Near thought about it for a moment. Did he? Was he supposed to? He wasn't so sure, now that everyone seemed to have control over his life except himself. But then again, from what he had heard, surpassing this L person, or _becoming_ him, a concept that wasn't so clear in his mind, was this children's only option. It was L or nothing. And the ambiguousness of the 'nothing' frankly scared him. He didn't know if it meant that he would get kicked out to the streets, or if he would die, or if he was simply going to move out someplace else again. Either way, he wasn't comfortable with any of those options. He didn't like changes, and he didn't want to disappear in thin air like his parents did. He wanted to have a guarantee of something, so almost without noticing, he nodded to Mello's question.

"See? Near cares. That's why he'll be second, right after me, and you'll get demoted to third." Mello kept arguing.

"Well I DON'T CARE!! I don't care if I'm ninth or tenth because no matter what position I'm in, there's no future for me!" With this the colorful child named Matt stood up from the table and dashed away.

All the kids from the nearby tables turned their attention to the scene, to which Mello's expression changed from surprised to annoyed. He kept eating as he mumbled something under his breath about Matt being too dramatic for his age.

Near was just speechless. Human relationships were just too complex, and he wasn't sure if he ever wanted to be a part of one again.

* * *

The next day, all the children in the house were gathered in the common room, where they shared different activities of the artistical order, and also where they gathered to receive news from the headmaster, Watari, who was no other than Mr. Wammy in disguise, but only the children inside the house knew this. This was one of those opportunities. It was the first time Near would attend to one of these meetings. And once again he didn't know what to expect, since all his classmates had different expressions indicating different expectations about it. Mello was smiling excitedly, Matt was indifferent as usual, Linda and another girl whose name he forgot were chatting and giggling, while some others seemed upset to even be there. Near simply sat down in the suspicious space between Mello and Matt and started curling a lock of hair between his fingers.

Soon Watari came in, wearing the unnecessary longcoat and hat. The children applauded. He sat on a chair and placed a laptop in a table, facing the kids. It had the traditional L in Old English text in a white background. Then the robotic voice started to speak.

"Good evening to all. This is L. I know you had been told that I would visit this house sometime around this month, but I'm afraid it won't be possible due to my schedule. However I will be revising your performance in every subject you attend to in this institution, so I can get a clear profile of the person I would like to choose as my successor. We will keep in touch." And with this the message ended, leaving them with a black screen and a long beeping sound.

Then Watari closed the laptop and left in silence.

"L couldn't come again, what a surprise..." Matt said sarcastically not taking his eyes off his adored gaming screen.

"Ah, such a disappointment!" Mello whined. "I really wanted to meet him now!"

Near on the other hand, was neither uninterested nor disappointed. On the contrary, he was very very interested. This L person was so intriguing, and even if he wasn't there in person, somehow his escence overwhelmed him. He was mysterious and somehow powerful, and he understood why the idea of becoming his successor was so appealing for these children. They could also be mysterious and powerful. They could have the power to do so many things...

And they wouldn't be just lonely orphans anymore.

All the effort that Mello put into it was because he desperately needed to feel important, all the indifference Matt felt about it was just a display of him giving up a long time ago, feeling insufficient for the task, for the role. But Near knew he could do it. He could reach up to Mello's level. He needed to. It was L or nothing, after all.

* * *

"Hey, Near." Mello spoke to him the next day while they walked down one of the corridors. "I've been thinking, and, I don't think it'd be a good idea to team up for projects... Matt is right, we always team up, so I don't really want to harm our friendship... But, we can still study together, right?"

Near just nodded.

"Great. I'll see you after lunch then to study history."

And so they did. Once again, the three of them sat together and tried to put the pieces together to fully comprehend all the subjects. And once again, Mello and Near seemed to be on the same page while Matt just wasn't interested at all, even if he was smart enough to understand it all. They also talked about L, a lot, since it seemed to be Mello's favorite matter to talk about. Near learned everything that Mello could tell him, and his fascination for this one-man institution just grew. The man was everything that one would want to be, and he could do anything he felt like doing.

"I really enjoyed this study session. You think a lot like me." Mello told the pale boy as they walked to their bedrooms. "I had never had anyone to comment on so many things, who knows what I'm talking about, you know?"

"Hey!" Matt complained from behind.

"You know what I mean, Matt, you're always like 'whatever' and don't share any knowledge with me."

"Whatever." Matt said proving his point.

"It's really nice to have someone to share opinions with, it's like talking to another self, but saner." Mello commented laughing. Near just nodded. Then they arrived at his door and said goodbye. "Good luck in the exam!"

Near entered his room and thought about it. He had to agree with Mello's words. It did feel kind of like talking to another self. Mello understood what he meant, he shared his point of view and he got things quicker than anyone he had ever known. And for that reason he respected him. He wasn't laughable, like most common humans, he was respectable, and even admirable. He was what poets would call a worthy opponent.

The exam came, and he did his best. This L person had said he would check their scores and their performance in every subject, so every little test counted. He would become L or nothing.

L or nothing.

And then came the results. Matt didn't share his score, Mello got a 9.8, and Near...

"Near..." The teacher said. "Congratulations. You got the highest score of the class. A round 10." Mello's jaw dropped, Matt's eyes widened, and the whole class went silent before erupting into applauses. Near stood up to get his exam and observed it. Yes. He made it. He could still win. He could still be L.

* * *

"I can't believe you scored higher than me!" Mello told him as they walked out of the class. "No one has ever scored higher than me! I'm number 1!"

Near didn't respond. He just twirled a lock of hair between his fingers and kept walking. It was something to be expected, wasn't it? If he worked that hard, he was bound to catch up to Mello eventually.

"Near, congratulations!" The kids greeted him and patted him on the back. Everyone was smiling, like they were so happy to see him succeed. It made no sense, but then again, in his life, very few things did.

Despite Mello's initial shock, he still wanted to study together, and he kept talking about L at all times. And once again Near had beat him. In written exams, oral exams, reading, art, music, poetry. He beat him at everything.

And soon he took his place.

The results of the latest scores were published once a month, to show the kids how their performance had been lately. And in that month... Mello had dropped to number 2, Matt to number 3, and Near was number 1.

And once again everyone applauded, except for the first three children. Near looked at the results expressionlessly, for he was expecting it; Matt was in pure shock; and Mello had the strangest mix of sadness and rage.

"You bastard!!!" The blond boy yelled as he jumped to grab the pale boy by the collar, threw him to the floor and punched him in the face, as tears were falling down his face and dropping onto Near's. "I told you, I told you I was number one! I told you I would become L's successor! I HAD to become L's successor, but you couldn't respect that, could you?!"

"Mello, stop! Please!" Matt pleaded as he tried to pull him away from the smaller boy, but Mello was no longer human. He was rage on legs.

"And I was nice to you! I let you be my friend, I even let you sit with us at lunch and join us to study! I TRUSTED YOU!!" He yelled louder as another punch came. "And you took away the only thing that truly mattered to me! You took away my spot, and the respect that others had for me, and more importantly you took away my chance to be L! I hate you!!"

"Mello! What the hell is going on in here?!" Roger said as he came in to watch the scene, and inmediately ran to separate the blond kid from the other. Mello screamed and kicked while he was being pulled away, and kept yelling 'I hate you!!' over and over.

He was taken to Roger's office, leaving Near bruised on the floor and Matt scared and powerless. He assumed he would help him stand up, but instead he just looked at him with tears in his eyes. "You don't know... how long it took for Mello to start smiling... And in the short time you've been here... you took that smile away. Please give it back."

Near sat up and put a hand on his cheek. It was burning with pain. He didn't understand anything at all. Mello was sad and angry, he hated him, and Matt was sad and asking him to give Mello his smile... It made no sense. He didn't understand what in the world it was that they wanted from him.

"Please take back everything you did." Matt continued as he stepped closer to Near. "You can have my place if you want, I don't care, but leave Mello his spot. He needs it. I mean it. It's the only thing that makes him want to wake up every morning. It's the only thing that gives sense to his life. Please just let him be number one."

He couldn't just fail on purpose. He couldn't choose which place to be in. He got the place he deserved. He was number one now, because he earned it. He was the one who would become L. Not Mello, or Matt, or Linda. Him. Near. He would because he had no other choice. He would because he was no longer Nate River, and someday he would no longer be Near, so he needed to be L. He needed to be someone. He needed to have something to hold onto to call his own. Something that would last. A guarantee, a safety that something was his own and no one could take it away. An identity. Any identity.

"I can't." Near answered after analyzing the situation, and saw how Matt's eyes turned to look a lot like Mello's, full of anger and disgust.

"Don't ever speak to us again."

* * *

The current L watched his card tower fall as the pieces connected in his mind. He had taken away Mello's position, his respect, his self-esteem and his dream. And all for what? For this? For this white and clean loneliness that still made no sense and that didn't make him happy at all? For a life full of deductive processes that ended in no satisfaction? For a good job that no one would acknowledge, except the people working under him, who he was certain didn't like him, but more respected him or perhaps even feared him? Was it really all worth it? Both Mello and Matt had lived a painful life and died a painful death, while Near's life had been simple and clean, void of any real harm or danger, one could say even innocent. And no matter how many years passed, it still made no sense at all.

It didn't make sense when he was Near, training to be L's successor, and it didn't make sense now that he was L, solving all sorts of intricate cases for no personal gain. It was all much easier and fuller when he was little Nate River, with parents and a school, with toys and kites that he never got to fly...

And then he understood what he had been doing. Surrounding himself with toys even during his adult life, solving the same kite puzzle over and over. He was repeating, and repeating. He was playing. Playing to be Nate, and Near, and L, at the same time. He played that all this personas met and lived in harmony. Played that he could go back to the start whenever he wanted, for it was just a game. But it was just that, a game. And when reality hit him it was unbearable. And when it did, the pieces fell and a choking feeling came to him again. It was clear now.

He missed it all.

He missed Nate River, he missed the Nate River that died when he had been told his name was Near. The Nate River that died when he started to care about joining the competition, when he held on to that title as if his life depended on it. And maybe it did, because L, and Matt, and Mello had all died at such a young age, but he was still alive. He had survived them all. He had lived past them all. He was here, alive, and not dead. He was alive, by himself. Living a life that made no sense.

Suddenly, out of the blue, tears started forming and then falling from his deep black eyes. He was crying. He hadn't cried in such a long time... it felt so strange, so foreign, and yet he couldn't stop. He hadn't cried since he was a small child in desperate need of his parents.

Maybe that's what he was still.

A desperate man-child in desperate need of affection. Not the one that came from an occassional sign of approval from his underlings, nor the one received from a one night stand. The kind of affection that came from other human beings that could see beyond his layers and layers of lies and unexpressiveness, and find the little maladjusted boy that he was. The kind of affection he had only received from his parents, the one that he had idealized and transfered to the omnipresent and omnipowerful presence of L, whom he had never met in person, but whom he admired to the extent of keeping his figurine at all times as if to deny the fact that he had died long ago.

The one he had received from Mello, who was his first friend, someone he could connect with on an intellectual level, someone who truly understood what it meant to be an orphan, what it meant to be a gifted child, what it meant to feel the pressure of the world on your shoulders, the responsibility to take the place of the most important person in the world, or die as a nobody. The person whom he felt most comfortable talking to, the one who could have been his best friend forever if events hadn't turned out the way they did. The one whose figurine he also kept, always next to his own, and whose death impulsed him to pick on the habit of eating chocolate as he worked. As if it was a way to honour the way he lived rather than mourn over the way he died.

His tears kept falling as he held all three figurines (L's, Mello's and himself's) as if they were his children and continued to cry, each sob louder than the previous one. He just felt so empty. So goddamned empty. He wanted everything to end, he wanted to go back to being a kid, he wanted his parents, he wanted L, Mello and Matt to be alive again and to live the life that he had taken away from them. And he wanted to find a life of his own. He wanted to just be Nate River again, the boy who spent his time playing inside and who learned fast. Why did he have to be L now? Why couldn't Mello be L? Why couldn't L still be L? He wasn't fit to be L, and much less to pick a new successor. This cycle had to stop. Messing with a kid's mind to try and turn him into the world's greatest detective wasn't exactly the best of ideas, he felt it in his own skin. Sure, it was great for the police, but for the child it ruined his life and the lives of those around him. It had to stop. The world had to know that L was dead, and he was never coming back.

He stood up and took the phone to call Watari. "Watari..."

"Yes, L?"

"I have figured it out."

"Good. Who is it going to be?"

"No one. L is dead."

"L..."

"I'm not L. L is dead."

"Near..." It was the first time he had been called that in a long while. "We know that, but you are L now, and at some point you are also going to-"

"I know. That's why it needs to end."

"I don't understand you."

"I want to destroy Wammy's House."

"What?!"

"Either turn it into a regular orphanage or just end it all. By all means, this factory of L's successors has to stop working. What it's been doing has to be illegal, and also inmoral."

"But-"

"I refuse to continue being a part of this. I quit." With this he hung up, sighed, put his fingerpuppets in place and exited the room.

He continued walking down the stairs until he was again at the kitchen, he opened the fridge and started eating one of the chocolate bars. The smell made him feel as if he had never left the world. Tears kept falling, though he still couldn't figure why. Wiping them away he went to the front door and stood there for a moment, hesitating. Then he opened it, and... there he was. Outside. Out on the real world. The real, cruel, and raw world that had treated them so badly, that had turned innocent children into a different kind of beast, a purely rational kind of beast with no empathy and no respect for the human life. And he felt the fear. Felt the fear he hadn't felt in a long time. Felt the need to rush back in and pretend nothing had happened. Felt_ alive._

He moved his feet and started walking, running, towards nowhere in particular. He felt the night breeze against his pale skin, felt his lungs expand and his legs filled with adrenaline trying to just run away from everything and everyone, and then there in the horizon, he saw them. Clearer than ever.

He had to stop to a halt because how did he know it was L if he hadn't met him... But it had to be him. He knew it was. And the fact that Mello and Matt were next to him just confirmed it.

The three of them were there. Right there. Just inches away from him. They were all together and they were alright. No scar in Mello's face, no wound in Matt's chest, no sign of struggle in L's whole being. They were alright and they were just looking at him, not with disgust or with anger, but with sympathy. Because they were all part of the same thing... Bceause they all had belonged to the same thing, and now they all had reunited.

And he understood. They were there for him. It was his time as well. And he knew what it meant, but he wasn't scared. In fact, he felt relieved. He wouldn't have to be L anymore, he wouldn't have to be something that he knew he never was, he wouldn't have to rid the world of its problems, he could be free to be what he wanted to, what he truly was... And he wouldn't be this lonely anymore.

He was happy. For the first and last time in his life, he smiled an authentic smile. It would all be over in a second, and then everything would be alright.

And then they would all be eternal.

Together at last.

**The End.**

* * *

**Closing Notes:** Well, there it is. The end of Near's chapter. And yes, I left the ending ambiguous on purpose. You can interprete it however you want. I hope you have enjoyed reading it up till now, and that I didn't fail spectacularly at writing Near. I got all emotional in the final part though.

Reviews are very appreciated, and any comments or questions are welcome. Thank you so much to anyone who took the time to read this. I know it's long and tedious, but it's my style.

See ya in the next chapter!


End file.
